Warped Reflection
by Ruth Quist
Summary: STORY COMPLETE! WesleyFredcentric, also Giles/Original Character, a little Gunn/Anne. Ensemble. Some Xover wBTVS primarily Faith and Giles. What would happen if you looked in the mirror and you weren’t there?
1. Mirror, Mirror

WARPED REFLECTION (Part 1) **By Kith** (qkith yahoo com) 

**Summary:** What would happen if you looked in the mirror and you weren't there?

**Rating:** PG-13 (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for _**Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel**_**, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for up to the end of Season 4 (In fact, it is assumed that you've seen Season 4. It will be hard to read this if you haven't.). Minor spoilers for Season 5. Mostly related to characters introduced this season.

**Distribution:** Just let me know where it's going. I want to see your site too!

**Assumptions:** (Spoiler warning!) They still haven't explained how the Connor related mind wipe works. For the purposes of this fiction, it is assumed that all the events that happened are remembered exactly how they happened. Conner was simply edited from those memories. (i.e. Justine cut Wesley's throat and he remembers that, but he doesn't remember the baby being in his arms or her taking Conner.) As you can imagine, this leave's weird gaps in everyone's memory. People don't question this because, as a part of the magical process to create the mind wipe, they were told not to question it. This also means that everyone's emotional state is pretty much the same as it was before the mind wipe. Aren't I nice to tell you? Now if Joss would just tell us!

**The story begins:**

Fred brushed the sweat threatening to drop off her nose and onto the books she was packing. She sat back on her heels and sighed. Who would've thought there were this many books in the hotel. It didn't look like this many when they were researching. She couldn't help wondering, somewhat irrationally, if the books were propagating or Phantom Dennis had unexpectedly moved into the hotel. She looked around sharply at that. No, that was silly!

The door to the basement slammed open and Gunn stomped through the lobby, shifting three boxes that threatened to fall, while he struggled to get a better grip. "Charles!" Fred started to rise to help him as the top box started to topple over. Not hesitating for a second, Gunn managed to shove the obstinate box in place using what seemed like every available body part; elbows, knee, and even his chin came into play. He continued to the landing and put the boxes down by numerous others at the door.

"When's English goin' to get here?" Obviously annoyed, he started to sit down on the boxes, but at the last second he took a bulky flashlight out of his back pocket and tossed it to Fred. She caught it clumsily and set it on the coffee table. Then he sat in disgust on the boxes.

"You know, considering we're the bosses and all, we could have had some of those evil minions at Monster Inc; pack, move, and unload all this stuff in the time it took us to argue about what we were going to do with it."

Fred pushed the hair that escaped from her ponytail out of her eyes. "Now Gunn, we all agreed that we needed to keep the evil lawyers away from our books and files and stuff and Wesley's apartment is the logical place for them to go, I mean, if something happened, not that it will necessarily, we'd still have them and, even if nothing happened, he could use them as an additional source.." Gunn broke in before she asphyxiated "Okay girl! Slow down." He threw both hands up in surrender. "But if Wes don't show soon, he's going to do the other end by his own damn self!"

With that, Gunn tromped back down into the basement with the echo of the slamming door left behind him.

Fred sat back again on her heels and silently agreed with Gunn. Where the hel-heck was Wesley? They'd gathered this morning, after last night's decision to take over evil incorporated. How did that happen anyway? They'd talked about a lot of issues; the books, the hotel, who would do what at Wolfram and Hart, and then broken up to get some personal things done. It had been weeks since any of them had been able to do anything even remotely normal.

But tonight they were supposed to meet here to pack and move the books and files. All except Angel and Lorne. Angel spent most of the night doing some "important errands" and he was going to spend all day at W.H. "working issues".

Could the man be any more obtuse. When was their little group going to learn that keeping secrets 'always' turned out badly.

Anyway, the rest of them were supposed to pack up the books and take them to Wesley's. Where was that man?

The door opened, as if in answer to her thoughts, and in walked… "Wesley! Where 'have' you been? We've been packin' and Gunn is…"

She stopped as she took in his appearance. He was wearing a neatly pressed, very dapper suit; she hadn't seen him in a suit before (except that tuxedo); and even more startling, he'd shaved…and glasses? "What happened to you? I haven't seen you in glasses for months. And what's with the suit? Not that it doesn't look nice, it's very nice and all, but with the packin' an everything…" Her voice petered out as he tilted his head up, almost as if in disdain, and spoke.

"Ah yes, Fred." Then he did something completely unexpected. He smiled. Not a little one either, a full up grin. It was…beautiful. It had been so long, since she'd seen him smile, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. They'd all had so little around here to smile about for so long.

Then, looking around, he stepped slowly down the stairs of the landing to stop directly in front of her. She'd smiled back without thinking, but as he stood in front of her, she saw something in the smile she'd missed until now. A cruel edge, like he was laughing at a personal joke and she was too stupid to get.

She stepped back involuntarily at the look. But he grabbed her and dragged her up against his chest. "Now, now, where are you going my dear?" Then his face warped into ridges and he savagely bit deep into the side of her neck.

She screamed at the pain and cold as she struggled uselessly against his grip. Every bit of warmth in her body was dragged out in rushing gulps from her neck and she sagged in his arms. Dimly, she heard angry yelling and couldn't stop her fall when she was abruptly let go. The whole world was swirling in a dark vortex around her. It was too much. So she silently spun away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"…arting to move! I don't…………got too much." Angel and Gunn's voices wavered in and out of Fred's hearing. She listened disinterestedly as she took stock of how her body felt. She was lying on something soft. Her neck hurt a little, she remembered being cold, but she was warmer now. Her arms hurt where he'd gripped…Wesley!

She sat up suddenly, almost bumping heads with Gunn. He leaned back and put his hands out. "Whoa, it's Okay! Don't you go moving too fast or you'll be out again." He gently, but firmly steadied her, holding her arms while she blinked her eyes rapidly. Gunn reiterated, "Just relax alright?" Her eyes wide open in shock, Fred rapidly twisted her head in all directions. "W-w-where is he?" Gunn looked up at Angel and then back, looking wearier than any mere physical tiredness could cause. "He's gone."

She wondered if he was talking about Wesley's physical presence or the fact that he wasn't Wesley anymore. "Oh God! W-what happened…How" Both men looked at her in perfect understanding. Gunn stood up suddenly, as if he had to move or explode, and began pacing the floor. "We know what happened! Somebody up and ate him! Damn!!!"

She moved her feet down to the floor and shifted uneasily on the couch. "But I thought, you know, it took a while to turn into…to become a…" Angel finished it quietly for her "Vampire." The three looked at each other in grief as if saying the word aloud somehow made it true. Of course it 'was' true. It had been true for hours.

Gunn stepped up to Angel and spoke with determination "We 'have' to stop him. It's what he'd want. Before he can…" Gunn stopped, unable to go on. Angel looked up, the sadness clear in his eyes "Yeah, I know. I can track him. We'll get some weapons and…"

He gripped Gunn's arm suddenly. "What was that?" Angel tilted his head listening to something beyond the others' hearing. Then urgently "Someone's coming." At that, the lights went out.

She heard the men moving and the rattle of weapons as they, she assumed, armed themselves. Fred tensed on the couch in the dark, hand pressing the cloth against her neck, but decided she'd probably fall over if she got up. Remembering the flashlight, she snatched it up, and snapped it on, sweeping the room with the beam. Angel, obviously moving faster than she would've thought possible, was already by the door, his sword ready to swing. Gunn ran to the bottom of the landing and shifted the two handed axe up to strike as the door opened.

"Angelcakes! Charles! I come in peace!" Lorne threw his hands up and flinched backed in the spotlighted doorway. "Hey look guys, if you don't want me here, a simple 'Go away big green' will do." Vampire and man backed off apologetically. Gunn eased the axe down before speaking. "Sorry man, we're pretty uptight."

Lorne grimaced "Oh no, don't tell me, we're at DEFCON 1 again and there's no Matt Broderick to get us out of it." He stepped in, his neon orange suit flashing garishly in the flashlight beam. "Please don't tell me its' another apocalypse!"

Angel, Gunn, and Fred looked at each other uncertainly. Angel, his face stiff with grief, answered their green friend. "It's Wesley."

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Angel, holding the flashlight, warily led the grim group down the basement stairs. They had decided explanations could wait until they checked out the lights. Lorne and Fred stayed at the bottom of the stairs with loaded crossbows ready. Gunn and Angel moved to the far wall and surveyed the remains of the fuse box with dismay. It was ripped out from the basement wall.

Gunn moved to check out the kicked-in sewer access door. "The lock is shot. I think I can jam this door tight though, with some of these boards." He leaned a board under the door jam and shoved it hard.

Angel opened the storage cabinet exposing two neat rows of camping lanterns. He began taking them out and passing them to the others.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"…and after I flung a box at him, I guess he thought it would be more fun to push me around. He did a lot of trash talkin' and all." Gunn flexed his sore arm at the memory. He grinned humorlessly "I'm a little harder to push around than he thought though. Did a little pushin' of my own." He shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't get a chance to see who'd fall down first. I think he heard Angel coming and booked."

After taking care of the lighting issue, they had all settled down for explanations; Fred and Lorne on the couch, Lorne with a comforting hand on hers, Gunn sitting on the steps, axe across his lap, and Angel leaning against the hotel's counter, sword within easy reach.

Gunn stood up, axe at the ready "So, we gonna do this?" He said it as more of a statement than question. Angel pushed away from the counter. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. If we leave and…he's watching, what's he going to do?"

Gunn stood stock still, his face filled with growing realization. "You're right, we would'a left and he could of come back and 'Lilah'ed Fred's ass!" He looked at Fred as he realized exactly what he said. "Oh, sorry." Fred, horrified at the idea, said "No, no, you said it…just…right."

Angel grabbed his sword and strode up to Gunn. "I'm going to do a sweep and then see if I can pick up his trail. Then I'll come back and we can decide what to do next. Stay sharp, right?" Gunn nodded, they looked at each other for a second, a shared understanding at the enormity of situation, and the vampire stepped through the door and was gone.

...................................……………………………………………………………………………

"I wonder if Angel found anything?" Fred sipped some of the juice Lorne had gotten her. Gunn had done a check of the hotel and was confident it was locked up tight. Now, he sat back on the circular seat, in the center of the lobby, the ever-present axe next to him. He reminded Fred of a tiger, relaxed, but watchful, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble.

She was ready too. A loaded crossbow lay beside her on the couch. She wasn't looking forward to pointing it at Wesley. She rubbed her forehead wearily and thought back with envy to when she was just annoyed that Wesley was late. This was so much worse than when he was separated from the group all summer. At least she knew he was alive…somewhere. She could see him if she wanted…needed…to. She could talk to him, tell him…" She closed her eyes tightly against the tears threatening to spill over. She knew if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop, and now wasn't the time.

When she was able to look up, Gunn was in front of her. His face was calm, but she could read the same sadness she felt in his eyes. "You okay?" She nodded, not ready to trust her voice yet, and gently touched his hand that gripped the axe.

At the sound of something glass-like smashing, they both jerked their heads towards the courtyard door. Lorne ran in from the kitchen, frying pan in hand, and said "W-what was that?" A clattering sound confirmed someone was moving around out there. Gunn moved quickly to the doors and brought the axe up. He paused at the doors. "You all stay right here. I'm gonna check it out. It's probably just Angel." As he opened the door, and slipped out, Lorne commented dryly "Oh yes, because the big guy often throws china around in the courtyard." He picked up a lantern and raised it up.

Fred realized the crossbow was in her hands. She didn't remember picking it up, but she raised it and aimed at the doors. She jumped up at the sounds of combat. She could hear voices, but not clear enough to tell who was speaking. She ran over, Lorne right behind her, and was glad to find her legs supporting her. He put down the lantern and gripped the doorknob and looked at her. She positioned herself to shoot anything in the door and nodded. He took a deep breath and flung it open, frying pan ready to strike.

No one was in the doorway and Fred scooted up. The fighting sounds had stopped and there was a sudden "WHOOP!!!" and then "OH MAN, OH MAN!" from Gunn. Lorne and Fred peered out into the gloom. It was hard to see, but Gunn was kneeling over and had something in his grip. Clear as a bell, Wesley's voice rang out, "Have 'you' completely lost your mind?!?"

Totally confused, Fred and Lorne moved up until they more clearly see Gunn hugging a bewhiskered and bewildered Wesley. He had none of the pristine look of the vampire they had fought earlier. He was dressed in the same burgundy colored shirt and brown jacket he was wearing this morning.

She looked Lorne, who was grinning widely, "No fangs there, pumpkin. He's all soul." A second "WHOOP!!!" rang in the air and she threw her self onto the two men. Under the pile Lorne could clearly hear a somewhat muffled voice say "Have you "all' lost your minds!?! What in the world…"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Right then, for some inconceivable reason you all believed I was turned into a vampire. Is that correct?"

After calming down, the little group had trooped back into the hotel. They were huddled together on the couch and a pulled up coffee table.

"Right, man. I saw you—'we' saw you, or someone who looked a hell of a lot like you. Although.." he continued thoughtfully "it was like you from the Thesulac demon banishing days. You know, all snooty and stick-up-the-butt guy. Except with a prissy suit."

"Sounds more like his 'scream-like-a-girl' days in Sunnydale to me." Angel, who must have arrived silently as usual, strode over from the landing, a grin on his face, to stand in front of Wesley. The ex-watcher stood up smirking slightly "So nice to know what wonderful first impressions I've managed to make in the past."

Angel looked at the man for a second and then grabbed him in a tight bear hug. When he let him go, he held on to his arms. "I meant what I said, you know. As far as I'm concerned we're good." Wesley was speechless for a moment. Then he regained his composure, quirked up an eyebrow, and rejoined "Faith was right. You did want to hug, didn't you?" But there was a warmth in his eyes Angel hadn't seen in a long time.

Wesley looked around at his friends. "Alright, I have a doppelganger, that looks like some old version of me, and convinced you it, or should I say 'I' was a vampire."

"It 'was' a vampire, Wes." The younger man looked up at his friend. "Killed enough bloodsuckers in my day to know 'em when I see 'em. It wasn't pretending when it nearly killed Fred."

Wesley, shocked, saw the bandage on Fred's neck he had overlooked up until now. "Oh God! Fred, I'm sorry! I hadn't realized…" "It's not your fault, Wesley." Fred said firmly. "I'm just glad it wasn't you. I…" She stopped speaking, her eyes blinking furiously for a moment. "I'm just glad, that's all."

Wesley looked down for a moment, then cleared his throat, and began again. "Yes, well, a vampire then, with some sort of shape-shifting ability. A spell perhaps or a magic-imbued object of some kind. I suppose…" The ex-watcher's voice petered out as he mused over the possibilities.

"He didn't have a scar!" Fred's voice unexpectedly broke in on his thoughts. "He was standin' there, with that pretty suit an' all. I just didn't realize! I mean, what with the glasses, and shaving, and funny behavior, I wasn't thinking about it at the time. How could I have missed it!" She turned wide eyes up to Wesley, obviously distressed by her oversight.

Gunn sat up straight, "You know, I didn't think much about it at the time either, but he said something strange just before he left. Something about being sorry he missed Junior. I just blew it off, thought you were trying to make some kind of joke about Angel or something."

Wesley, clearly shocked, cried out "What? I…" stopped abruptly, paled, and whispered "No." Angel reached out in alarm to steady him as he swayed. "What is it, Wes?" The group looked on in alarm. "I-I need to sit." He dropped back onto the couch. He was breathing rapidly, and for a minute, Angel thought the man might pass out. "I n-need to make a call."

Wesley fumbled his cell phone out from his jacket pocket and opened the cover, then stared like he didn't know what to do next. He stood suddenly. "May I use your office for a moment? I shan't be long." Angel looked closely at the man and nodded.

They watched from the lobby area as Wesley made his call. He paced nervously while he spoke. He abruptly stopped, straightened up, his face stressed as he talked urgently.

Angel, watching the silent conversation impassively, stiffened suddenly. Gunn, standing at his elbow, said softly "You can hear him, can't you?"

The vampire nodded slightly, "Yeah."

Gunn waited a few seconds. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Angel nodded again. "Yeah."

Gunn's face grew grim. "Damn."

Angel sighed "Yeah."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Cat and Mouse

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Two)**

**By Kith**

They watched from the lobby area as Wesley made his call. He paced nervously while he spoke. He abruptly stopped, straightened up, his face stressed as he talked urgently.

Angel, watching the silent conversation impassively, stiffened suddenly.

Gunn, standing at his elbow, said softly, "You can hear him, can't you?"

The vampire nodded slightly, "Yeah."

Gunn waited a few seconds, "It's bad, isn't it?"

Angel nodded again, "Yeah."

Gunn's face grew grim, "Damn."

Angel sighed, "Yeah."

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

Wesley snapped the cell phone closed and stood for a second, trying to regain his composure. These conversations were always unpleasant, but this one was particularly difficult. He looked out the window of the office at his friends. Their faces showed their worry and curiosity, and a certain expectancy, since he finished his call.

He took a deep breath and opened the door of the office. "Perhaps we could talk in here?" He moved one of the chairs facing the desk to a wall and sat down. Then he tried to get his thoughts in order.

Everyone settled into chairs and looked at him questioningly. All except Angel. Angel's eyes kept shifting away and his face was grim. Wesley suspected Angel already knew.

Wesley took another deep breath and began, "After Gunn's comment about "Junior", I had an idea that I knew the identity of the vampire. I just called my father. He…admitted my suspicions were correct. My older brother, Winston, disappeared a couple of months ago while on Council business. Because of some…things going on with the Council at the time, my parents assumed he was dead." Wesley mused a little sadly, "I suppose he was."

Fred's shock showed in her voice, "He disappeared and no one told you?" Wesley hesitated for a moment and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Well, my…relationship with my father has always been…problematic at best. Our communications are, um, limited. In the absence of specific information, I doubt my father would consider it necessary to impart any speculation, unless a funeral was imminent.

Wesley took a deep breath and sighed, "Also, nearly the entire Watchers Council was destroyed over the past year by an evil group called the Bringers working for the First Evil. Entire facilities were blown up and individual watchers and potential slayers were hunted down and murdered. I guess I wasn't very high on my father's priority list. Not with two active watchers in the family."

Angel sat up, a look of concern on his face, "The Bringers? Isn't that the group Willow was talking about that they're fighting in Sunnydale? They destroyed the council? What about Buffy?"

Wesley shrugged, "When I talked to Willow, she indicated things were a little hairy in Sunnydale. However, she also said the Bringers weren't actually targeting Buffy much. They were more interested in killing off the potentials, than killing off the active slayers.

Gunn interjected, "Well, I guess it's lucky Faith went to Sunnydale. I mean, at least they know all about these Bringer guys there. It would be just our luck to end up fighting another mysterious big bad and not know why."

Wesley looked at Gunn thoughtfully, "Actually, Faith was attacked in prison, probably by forces working for the First. When she told me about it, I briefed her on everything I knew about the situation, including the attacks."

Everyone's head swiveled towards Lorne in surprise as he spoke up, his gaze intense, "And when did these Bringers come after you, Crumpet?" Wesley's eyes widened in surprise briefly, but the rest of his face was impassive as he looked at Lorne and then looked away.

Fred stood up and spoke heatedly, "Lorne's right isn't he? You did get attacked by them. Are they still after you?"

Wesley leaned back in his chair looking slightly confused, "All this concern is touching, but I really was in no danger. The Bringers stopped attacking the few watchers left some time ago. My understanding is, after they eliminated the bulk of the watchers, they concentrated their actions on all the remaining potentials slayers. I was targeted some time ago, but after the one incident, they left me alone."

Wesley's small humorless smile reminded the others of the undeniable changes Wes had undergone in the past year: "I think they gave me up as a bad job and moved on to more…lucrative targets."

Wesley stood up and moved to lean against a wall, "But really, I think we're getting off-topic here. I was explaining about the vampire likely being my older brother."

Gunn shifted to look Wesley in the eye, "Excuse me Wes, but he didn't look like an older brother, he looked like you!"

Wesley suddenly looked tired as he explained, "We're monozygotic twins. But he was born first by a minute and a half."

"What in the heck does "monozygotic" mean?" Gunn asked impatiently. Angel looked like he wanted to ask too, but restrained himself. "It means they were identical twins." Fred answered. Gunn muttered "Why didn't he just say so."

Angel broke in, "Ninety seconds doesn't seem like enough to warrant calling him your older brother, Wes." "Ninety seconds is a lifetime in my family. You see, my father had the estate entailed." Angel nodded his understanding, murmuring "Ohhh."

Gunn, looking irritated, said, "Are you trying to make me feel stupid?!? What the hell does 'entailed' mean?" Fred patted his hand comfortingly, "Don't feel bad, I don't know what it means either." Wesley looked apologetically at them both. "I'm sorry, I'm just so… It means that, by law, the family estate, in its entirety, goes to the eldest liv…living…" Wes's voice choked on this word, "…son. It means he was the sole heir."

Gunn interjected, "That would be you now, right? Oh man! I'm sorry Wes. I didn't mean it to come out like that. I mean…I'm sorry about your brother. Believe me, I know what it feels like to have family vamped." The two men's eyes met silently for a moment in clear understanding.

The sadness in Wes's voice was apparent as he looked at Gunn, "No, no, that's all right. This is a lot for anyone to get used to, and it's not like any of you knew I had any siblings."

Fred asked, "Do you have any other brothers or sisters, Wes?" Wesley looked at Fred steadily, "Yes, I have an older sister, Mary. My father assures me she is all right. She's apparently been on some long-term, covert Watcher mission and just returned recently." Wesley leaned over, elbows on knees, rubbing his face tiredly: "Fortunate that, she'd probably be dead if she'd been in England. She did say she was going away for a while last time I spoke with her."

Angel stood up and moved over to Wesley, "Maybe you should let us handle this Wes." Gunn took a deep breath, "Yeah man, why don't you let us do this for you."

Thank you, both of you," Wesley's gratitude shown in his eyes, "But I can't do that. If my brother is here, it's because of me. That makes anything he does here at least partly my fault."

"It's not your fault Wes." Angel's comment was almost drowned out by Gunn's "No way, man! This ain't your fault!"

Wesley stopped leaning against the wall and said emphatically, "Charles, when your sister Alona was turned, would you have just stepped back and let someone else take care of the situation for you?"

Gunn looked at Wes for a moment and then sat back down, "No. Never." He paused and then said, "But it still ain't your fault."

Angel put his hand on Wesley's shoulder, "We want to help, Wes. We can stop him faster together." Wesley nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"So, if your brother's a vampire," Angel spoke hesitantly, "what else do we need to know about him?

Wesley moved over to the doorway, and gripped the frame tightly for a moment, gathering himself. Then he turned around, "Well, for one thing, my brother was a brilliant strategist. Our family has always been known for its scholars, but he was always such a terrible researcher. He would have made an excellent soldier, if my father would have allowed such an outrage in the family."

Angel spoke quietly, "You said he's here because of you. What exactly do you think he wants?"

"To kill me, I imagine, preferably after embarrassing and hurting me as much as possible."

Fred looked puzzled, "Why would your brother want to do that? I mean, I know vampires go after their families a lot, and are all with the 'kill, maim, destroy' stuff," she made clawing motions with both her hands, "which is terrible and everything…but why so…involved? You know, the hurting and embarrassing and all."

Wesley, his face a mask, said flatly, "It's very simple really. My brother hates me." The group looked appalled at his bald statement.

He paused for a second and took a deep breath, "Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. We need to find him."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Now that I know it's not you, I can probably track him. I was trying to follow your scent and wasn't getting anywhere." Angel strode over to where he'd put his broadsword down and picked it up.

Wesley and Gunn opened the weapon's cabinet and Gunn started to take out his axe. Wesley stopped him, speaking softly so the others couldn't hear, "Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here. My brother would want to attack those people I care about most and Fr…" Wesley looked away.

"Yeah, we're kinda ground zero here, aren't we?" Gunn spoke just as quietly. He spoke louder, so everyone could hear, "Maybe I better take Fred and Lorne over to Wolfram and Hart for a little while. Just until we know somethin'. They've got a lot of security there, and then I could join up with you guys after."

Angel, who'd heard the entire conversation, said, "Good idea. Take em' to my new apartment."

"Good, I've been wanting to see your new Fortress of Brooditude, Angelcakes." Lorne spoke enthusiastically.

Fred frowned at the men, "Well, not good! I know you just want to protect me. But I'm not some little girl that needs the big, strong men to save me from the terrible monster! I've fought along side you and, unless you plan on putting me in some impenetrable fortress for the rest of my life, I'll keep taking risks in this business just like the rest of you."

The force of her determined speech seemed to take something out of her and she clutched at the back of the chair. Wesley's emotions almost overwhelmed him at this slim, waiflike, brave, gir…er…woman, with a bandage on the side of her neck and beautiful eyes that seemed bigger framed by her pale face.

"Fred!" Wesley spoke as though the words were forced out of him, "Nobody's questioning your willingness to fight or your value on the team. You'd be in Texas if we didn't believe in you. But my brother knows…things about me. He'll…use any advantage, my…friends, anything, and he'll plan accordingly. When we see him again, he'll be ready, and he'll strike using any perceived weakness—and right now, in your current condition, he'll strike at you.

Fred looked uncertainly at the men, "But I thought I could go with you guys. I just want to help too." Angel put his arm around her shoulders, "You will help Fred. But you just got attacked." He ignored Wesley's wince at this statement." You can either rest, or if you want, figure out how Wolfram and Hart might be able to help us. We may need to use some of their resources before this is over."

Fred nodded emphatically, "I'll be ready if you guys need anything." Angel smiled, "Great, let's get you folks going and then Wes and I'll get down to some tracking."

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

"Sorry about the flower pot." Angel and Wesley stood among the wreckage of the ceramic fragments in the hotel's courtyard.

Angel replied absentmindedly, "Sure, it's okay, too much jasmine back here anyway." Startled at the comment, both men looked at each other briefly. Angel pointed out the gate, "I think I've got the scent. He went out that way." Wes nodded and they started off.

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

"Took them long enough," the minion, Dave, spoke with a modicum of impatience, while standing next to his sire, Winston. Winston had removed the tie and glasses he wore earlier and looked down from their rooftop vantage. The tiny stick figures of Angel and Wes moved out into the alley cautiously and walked silently past the dumpsters and trash.

Winston pulled the earphone out of his ear and turned off the listening device "It certainly took my dear brother long enough to figure out who the vampire was. And to think he was head boy at the academy." Winston smiled with real mirth, "Just forcing him to talk to dear old dad was worth the wait."

"Head boy!" the minion started laughing. With lightening speed Winston grabbed the underling by the throat and lifted him off the ground. "You fail to understand your place in this family. I plan to play with my brother like a cat with a mouse. But after that, he will be your master, second only to me!"

With that, Winston flung Dave across the flat roof. Winston's face, normally amazingly like Wesley's, bore a look on his face that none of Wesley's friends would have recognized—pure evil. He snapped a walkie-talkie up to his mouth, "The mouse has left the hole, repeat, the mouse has left the hole. Mouse and rat are following the cheese. Forty-five minutes to contact. 4-5 minutes." Winston lowered the radio and muttered, "Cat and mouse, Wussley, cat and mouse."

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

Angel kept a watchful eye out as they moved slowly down the darkened backstreet, while listening to Wesley's conversation on the cell phone, "Good Gunn. So what do you think? Five minutes? Right. See you there."

Wesley snapped the phone shut, "Gunn's meeting us just ahead." "Right." They reached a junction where an alley stretched dimly to the right.

Angel pointed down the alley, "He turned here." Peering down the gloomy alley, Wesley asked, "Can you see anything?"

"No, but I've cleaned out a couple of vampire nests down here. It's popular because of the number of empty warehouses in the area. I think this alley dead-ends, but there are side doors to two or three of the warehouses along it. Fairly popular entrances for the vamps I've met in the past."

"Maybe we should wait for Gunn" Wesley looked at his watch briefly, "He'll be along here any minute."

Angel started down the alley, "You wait here. I'm just going to scout ahead and see if I can figure out which warehouse he went into."

"Angel!" Wesley hissed softly, but the vampire was gone, lost in the enveloping darkness.

Nervously checking his crossbow to make sure it was loaded properly; Wesley looked both ways down the street impatiently. "Come on Gunn, come on." He jerked his head towards the alley at the sound of Angel's choking cry, and ran without hesitation towards the sound with his crossbow ready.

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

Angel silently followed the scent of his quarry down a turn in the alleyway. Moonlight filtered down the alley a little better here. If he could figure out which warehouse Wesley's brother was using, he could scout it out before they went in. Maybe he could even take Winston beforehand. Wesley had enough pain to carry without…

He heard a noise from above just in time to dodge partly out of the way.

Six figures dropped from a warehouse roof. One of them struck a glancing blow to Angel's head using his feet. Angel couldn't help the cry of pain he made at the sudden impact as his sword skittered across the alley out of his grasp.

As he staggered, dazed, he shook his head desperately trying to clear it. Blood dripped over his eyes making it difficult to see. He heard a growl, and using instinct more than anything else, popped out his retractable stake and stabbed towards the sound. He felt something solid take the blow and then disintegrate, the familiar smell of vampire dust wafting to his nose.

Knowing he was a sitting target, he rolled to his right and made contact with a building wall. Promptly shifting his back against the wall, he wiped his blurry eyes and braced himself for the attack he knew was coming.

He heard the crackle of a radio; a tinny voice said "Here comes the mouse." It sounded like Wesley's voice. Angel could dimly make out figures in front of him and when he shifted his feet for better balance, heard metal scrape the asphalt –his sword!

He swooped it up and swung decapitating one and nearly doing the same to another. His eyes cleared and he saw the vampires had dodged back. Footsteps pounded up the alley towards him as he pushed off from the wall. The radio, now on the ground, chirruped "Scatter!" The vampires broke and ran down into the dark alley.

"Angel, look out!" Wesley barreled towards Angel at full speed. Angel's mouth gaped open, what was Wesley doing? Wesley slammed into Angel like an American linebacker tackling a quarterback and almost carried Angel over his shoulder several yards until they both collapsed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Angel looked back in time to see a giant deluge of clear liquid hit where he'd been standing and splash in all directions. Drops splattered on him and burned like acid as they traced a path down his face and hand. Wesley, lying on top of him took the brunt of the splash effect, his legs and lower back soaked.

"Wes!" Angel dragged himself up as Wesley groaned and slipped off him. Angel gripped the shoulders of Wesley's coat. "Wes!" Wesley pushed himself up and gritted his teeth: "We've…got to…" Wesley gasped in pain, "get out of…here Angel! Right now!" Hearing movement above them, Angel jerked Wesley up, ignoring the man's agonized cry, threw him over his shoulder and ran.

…………………………………………………………………………………..………..

To be continued...


	3. New Blood

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Three)**

**By Kith**

Author's Note: Thanks for all the nice reviews! You folks rock! I've never written a story before, so it's nice to hear someone likes it. If you send a review and you want a reply, please put your email address in the text of your message. I'll do my best to answer. Thanks again!

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"Wes!" Angel dragged himself up as Wesley groaned and slipped off him. Angel gripped the shoulders of Wesley's coat. "Wes!" Wesley pushed himself up and gritted his teeth: "We've…got to…" Wesley gasped in pain, "get out of…here Angel! Right now!" Hearing movement above them, Angel jerked Wesley up, ignoring the man's agonized cry, threw him over his shoulder and ran.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Gunn pulled up to the corner and looked around. Where were they? At least Lorne and Fred were okay. When he'd left, Fred was ordering evil people around and marshalling forces to be ready for whatever Angel needed. He chuckled at the memory. She sure knew how to light a fire under someone when she wanted to. She could light a fire in someone too, he mused. Too bad they hadn't worked out.

He'd always wondered what she saw in him. Frankly, he'd thought she and Wes had more in common with the books an' all. He was just a street kid with a very direct approach to problems. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe she had wanted a simple, uncomplicated relationship.

She knew he'd been interested after his comment about her being beautiful. Maybe she was looking for something straightforward after her failed crush on Angel. No agonizing, no questions, just sweetness and pancakes. Everything simple and easy. He couldn't blame her after her stint in Pylea.

Not like English was ever simple. He was a complicated man from beginning to end. Gunn remembered those comments Wes'd made about his parents. There was a lot of pain there.

He had to wonder if that fire Fred was lighting had anything to do with the fact that Wes was threatened. He scowled at the thought. Well, pretty soon, nobody'd be able to say he was 'simple'. He sighed looking around. Where were th…

Angel came pounding out of an alley twenty-five feet away like the hounds of hell were after him, with Wesley over his shoulder. Gunn backed up, tires squealing, hammered down on the horn, and floored the gas to rocket towards them.

He slammed to a stop just long enough for Angel, still gripping Wesley, to leap into the bed of the pickup and then gunned the truck down the road. From out of the alley flashes of light accompanied the sound of rapid fire weapons. Bullets spronged the back end of the pick-up and then the truck zoomed down the street leaving the alley far behind them.

Angel, his hands still burning from his contact with Wes' wet pants, grabbed the back of Wes' coat trying to drag it off of him. "Angel, stop!" Wes grimaced at the forced movement.

"I've got to get these things off you Wes. There's some kind of acid on them."

Wes gripped Angel's wrist stopping him, "It's holy water, Angel. I didn't drop the crossbow before I tackled you and I fell on it badly. I think I cracked some…uh…ribs. The man eased back with a gasp and held his side gingerly.

"Holy water? How'd you know?" Angel hung on to the side of the pickup and used his other hand to keep Wesley from sliding around the bed.

"I saw them tilting a huge tub over the side of the roof and remembered a paper my brother wrote at the academy. Caused quite a stir at the time-'The Extrapolation of…uh" Wesley gasped as the pickup popped in and out of a pothole, "Special Forces Tactics for Use Against Demons'. Winston was using one of the tactics he suggested in his paper."

Gunn opened the little window in the back of the cab and shouted, "So where we goin'? Hospital? Hotel?"

"Hospital," Angel shouted back.

"That isn't necessary," Wesley gripped his side tighter and pulled himself up to a sitting position to lean against the cab.

"You need to get checked." Angel looked at the pale sweating face before him.

"If you insist on taking me to the hospital, I'll just take a cab when we get there." Angel saw the determination on Wesley's strained face and gave up: "Where do you want to go?"

Wesley patted his inside jacket pocket, "I appear to have lost my phone. Do you have yours?" Angel fumbled the phone out of his coat, "Yeah, here." Wesley unsteadily pushed buttons on it and listened, "Damn it, Angel, this phone's dead." Wesley grimaced as the pick-up jounced over a particularly rough patch of road. "I need to make a call. Either my flat or the hotel would suffice."

Angel had a better idea and leaned his head into the cab window: "Go to Wolfram and Hart, Gunn." Looking back, he saw how Wes was holding himself tight against the pain, "and slow down a little."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Angel had to grin a little when, despite Wes' protests, Fred whisked him away to the 'medical section'. She firmly rattled on in that way of hers (she just talked right over Wes) and next thing Angel knew, Wes was on a gurney rolling away. Wait, they had a medical section? Well, he guessed that made sense, Wolfram and Hart had to dissect people somewhere. He frowned a little at that thought and told Gunn to go with Wes. "And see that he has access to a phone."

An annoying man in a suit hovered nearby looking like he was permanently attached to Angel's elbow, "Anything you need, Mr. Angel?" Angel started to yell at the man to get lost when he had a thought, "Yeah, send a team to the alley just off 63rd and Franklin. See if there's a walkie-talkie still on the ground in the alley there. If it's there, I want it."

"Yes sir!" The man started to scurry away. "Wait! Tell them there may be vampires there. But they need to watch out. I don't want any humans staked by mistake. You got it?" "Yes sir!" and with that the man was gone. Rubbing the burns on his face, Angel decided he needed to refuel and headed to his new office.

"Hey Angelcakes!" Angel sighed and turned at Lorne's words. Lorne walked up hurriedly with a cell phone in his hand and held it out to Angel. "Your secretary tried to call you when they called, but got that 'Angel doesn't know how to recharge his battery' signal, as usual. I told her I'd hunt you down." He thrust the cell phone at Angel's chest, "You need to call right now, just push redial, I already put the number in."

"What? A secretary? I've got a secretary?" What call?" Angel confusedly took the phone.

Lorne spoke urgently, "Yes, sweet cheeks, you've got a secretary. Wesley picked her out of the secretarial pool for you last night-or was it the night before? My time sense is all shot." Lorne paused, "Look, none of this is important, okay? Push the button. A certain blonde slayer needs you-right-now. Lorne said the last two words with special emphasis, poking his finger in Angel's chest with each word.

Angel, startled, pushed the redial button and spoke tentatively into the phone, "Buffy?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

When the elevator doors slid open, Fred was dismayed to see Wesley clutching his side and supported by Angel. She had dragged him down to medical right away. Her fear gave her voice an edge that she used to override Wesley's objections and get the medical team moving. She watched the nurse remove Wesley's coat and shirt. Wesley favored his right side.

She realized she'd never seen him without his shirt before. She felt a slight frisson of an emotion she couldn't quite identify. She swept her eyes down his lean chest which showed a light dusting of hair. He'd lost weight since last year, not a good thing in a man who'd never really had any extra to lose.

But she drew a hitched breath at the badly contused area, purple and swollen on his right side. She could see Wesley grit his teeth and take shallow breaths as the doctor probed the ribs. The doctor seemed to be unnecessarily rough. She frowned and her eyes narrowed. She'd have to have a little talk with the doctor after his examination.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hawkins?" Wesley spoke into the phone Gunn had found for him. Fred was talking to the doctor and looking over the x-rays with him. Wesley's eyes followed her movements as she found out; he had no doubt, that Wesley had 2 (or possibly 3) broken ribs. They hadn't perforated anything or he'd be in a lot worse shape. His shirt was off and the doctor had pushed and probed enough to make Wesley wish he still had his crossbow.

He jerked himself back to the conversation on the phone, "The apocalypse and everything is over. However, I don't want the team to come back to town."

He'd sent the group he'd built up, during his separation from Angel Investigations, out of town when the apocalypse hit. He'd known that if the apocalypse was going to be stopped he'd have to work with Angel. His group would have died in all the chaos unless he stayed with them.

"Move to a new location and let me know where. Keep your eyes open. Vampires may be coming your way." He listened for a moment and said, "Yes, that's fine. I've lost my phone. I've got another phone number you can call if you need to contact me. It's a good alternate to my home phone if you need anything. Also, I want to set up a code word so you can tell it's me if I call or show up at your location…Yes, I know it sounds strange. I've got a situation going on here."

Wesley didn't know if Winston even knew about his team, however, it was better to err on the side of caution. Wesley continued, "It's possible a demon may try to pretend to be me, a…shape shifting vampire. For reasons I don't want to go into right now, he can only appear to be me."

Wesley continued the conversation for a few moments while his eyes went back to watching Fred. Hands on her hips, she was dissatisfied with something the doctor was saying. She spoke a few words pointedly, the doctor paled, and then she abruptly turned to walk towards the bed. Wes hurriedly finished the call and put the phone down on the nightstand by the bed.

She spoke indignantly, "What is it with evil people around here? He wanted to know whether we wanted you to get better or interrogate you." She lowered her voice, making it sound officious, obviously imitating the doctor, "The pain caused by applying pressure to broken ribs is especially effective for interrogation techniques."

Wesley said with a completely straight face, "Well, I don't know, perhaps you should check with Angel first? Who knows what valuable information I might provide."

She started at his words and then, when she realized he was kidding her, she stuck her hands into her back pockets and leaned over speaking confidentially, "You shouldn't talk like that around here. Next thing ya know, you'll be upside-down over some vat of boiling oil or whatever." Wesley smiled.

Fred smiled back, "Now that you can do as much as you like-smile, I mean. We just haven't had enough of that lately." "No," Wes said softly, "not lately."

Gunn walked up, "Something's up. Angel needs us upstairs as soon as possible." ……………………………………………………………………………………………………

When they got into Angel's office, it looked like a command center for a disaster site. Three different TV news stations were blaring at once from the bank of TVs on the wall. Well-dressed people with clipboards were either writing furiously as Angel spoke or waiting impatiently to talk to him themselves. Four others were over at the couch with cell phones talking urgently and taking notes of the responses.

"Mr. Angel, the helicopters are on the way. Their ETA is 25 minutes. The landing site is approved and confirmed," one woman spoke over the crowd.

A man lifted a finger and said, "I've got the transport set from their current location to the landing site. ETA on that is 5 minutes."

Angel, on the phone too, raised his hand for silence. The room got much quieter immediately. Several people continued whispered conversations on the phones. "Yes Giles, vans should be there any minute to take you to the…yeah, I know you didn't expect this. However, this'll get you all here within the hour.

I'm sending a medical team to check the people you have in the hospital there, and when they can be moved, we'll bring them here…I've got a hotel all arranged…Yeah, we still have the hotel, but it's not safe right now…

What?...Huh?...Yes, I know Harmony is a vampire! What's that got to do with…She answered the phone when you what! Look, let's worry about that later, Okay?...

The authorities?...Yes, I can see how that could be awkward for Faith. We might be able to do something about that…Yeah, as soon as you all get here and are settled in…I'm going to have Wesley work that…yes, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce…yes, that Wesley…no I wouldn't describe him that w…Just wait and see, okay?...Bye.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dave replaced the back on the radio carefully and set it back on the ground. As he started to rise again, he saw the cell phone under a crumpled newspaper. Picking it up he paged through the phone numbers in the memory. It looked like head boy's phone. He snorted. He didn't know what head boy meant in Brit, but it was damn funny in American. He bounced the phone in his palm gently. His sire was a creative guy. He'd find something useful to do with the phone.

Dave scowled. Winston didn't really have any call throwing Dave around over that stupid brother of his. What did he think 'Wussley' could do that Dave couldn't? After all, didn't Winston say he and his brother never got along? Wasn't Winston always talking about how useless the 'mouse' was? Dave was Winston's second-in-command. He wasn't losing his place to 'head boy'.

Dave heard the noises of several people coming down to the turn in the alley. He crouched and jumped up to the roof. Watching the Wolfram and Hart team move around the turn and cautiously forward to pick up the radio, he knew Winston was going to be very happy.

Everything was going according to plan.

And Dave planned to tweak that plan just a tiny bit.

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Wesley sighed. What with the disaster in Sunnydale and its aftermath, the hunt for Wesley's brother was on hold. However, Wesley knew he'd be out again looking in a few hours.

The hotel lobby seemed strangely quiet after the hubbub of a teen slayer invasion. Wolfram and Hart toadies made final checks off their clipboards as they left the hotel.

They passed a couple of muscle-bound suits trying, unsuccessfully, to not look like security guards. Gunn, responsible for setting out security, spoke briefly with one of the guards and then talked tersely into a walkie-talkie.

Angel and Buffy were sitting over to one side in a couple of overstuffed chairs, leaned over, heads close together, talking quietly. Buffy moved carefully, but seemed oddly relaxed and cheerful. Buffy laughed at something Angel said and Angel sheepishly laughed with her.

Fred was standing with Willow and a surprisingly eyepatched Xander. They were having a spirited conversation and Fred was currently explaining something to the obviously rapt amusement of the pair of listeners.

Faith spoke unexpectedly from behind Wesley, "You should'a heard watcher senior after his conversation on the phone with Angel! Somethin' or other 'bout blueberry scones. I'm surprised your ears aren't red." She leaned over, smirking, and appeared to survey his ears closely.

Wesley blandly looked at her, saying dryly, "Ah yes, a conversation well worth missing. Thank God for small favors."

"Hey, I got your back, Wes! I said you were nothing like that wimp back in Sunnydale." Faith looked amused.

"Thanks for that sterling recommendation," Wes went back to watching Fred…and the others.

Faith followed his gaze, "Hey watcher mine, people change. Sometimes I think the Sunnydale crowd forgets that…unless it happens to one of them." She paused for a second, "Sometimes, it's the only thing I have to hang on to. I hav'ta believe, ya know?" She stated fiercely, "I've changed."

Wesley spoke quietly, "Neither of us are the same people, Faith. And I'm not your watcher."

Faith looked over at Buffy and Angel, her tone completely serious, "He'd be dead if it weren't for you, you know that, right? Or I'd be dead…not that I 'specially matter."

Wesley spoke absently as Fred swept her hair back with one hand and made some point with her other, "Actually, I took quite a lot of grief for the whole Orpheus episode. They felt I'd taken too big a risk with your life. I suppose they were right."

"You didn't tell them, did you?" Faith looked at Wesley curiously. Wesley crossed his arms, wincing a little at his protesting ribs, and looked at Faith, "I didn't think it mattered, or that they'd care…" He looked at the closest thing he had to a family, scattered around the room, "Perhaps I was wrong."

Angel looked over at Wes and Faith briefly, and then went back to listening to Buffy.

Faith looked at Wesley intently, "If you aren't my watcher, I don't know who is. It's not like there's that big a selection anymore. Not like it'd matter. If there were thousands of those stuck-up types still running around like wind-up toys, you and Giles are still the only two I'd trust to play "I spy" with."

She commented matter-of-factly, "Ya' know, Giles was some kinda screw-up when he was junior Giles. I think maybe the best watchers gotta grow into it." Wesley looked startled at her comment. Faith looked away, "Anyway, right now, he's playing crowd control with the baby slayers."

She looked over at Wesley, "So what's the big plan? Am I staying outta jail or turnin' myself in? I mean, the whole "one girl in all the world" thing hasn't been true for like forever, what with Buffy and now the herd of Slayer add-ons."

She commented dryly, "Being with all those girls at Buffy's was a lot like bein' back in jail. Maybe a little more like juvvie detention. Except maybe for the whole conjugal rights thing." Wes looked at her amusedly. Her eyes twinkled, "I said I changed. I didn't say I changed into a nun."

Wesley laughed. The first genuine laughter Faith had seen from him…ever. He had a nice smile and his eyes held a depth of comprehension she could feel. She suddenly relaxed. He knew. He understood. Wes had her back.

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To Be Continued…


	4. Welcome to my Parlor

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Four)**

**By Kith**

Author's Note: I have changed my settings so I can receive anonymous reviews. Thanks for the information Lightning Bug, I didn't even know I had settings! At this point, author puts up force field and prepares for incoming.

Thanks again to all the folks who took the time to review!

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Wesley laughed. The first genuine laughter Faith had seen from him…ever. He had a nice smile and his eyes held a depth of comprehension she could feel. She suddenly relaxed. He knew. He understood. Wes had her back.

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Fred had gotten the whole Sunnydale crater/First Evil story from Willow and Xander. She explained about the possibility of eye replacement through Wolfram and Hart—once they made sure Evil Inc wasn't killing someone for the part.

Xander seemed to be trying to remain blasé about the idea. The fact that he was obviously tired and saddened about their recent experiences helped to tamp down his response. However, she could tell he had an undercurrent of understandable excitement over the concept.

She was deeply involved in the conversation when the sound of Wes's laughter caught her by surprise. She looked over and saw Faith and Wes smiling at each other, obviously getting on like gangbusters.

She frowned, what was it with him and bad girls! She'd seen some kind of spark between him and Faith when they were all fighting Angelus. She'd kind'a wondered then. Although he hadn't elaborated, Charles had mentioned something in passing about some kind of bad blood between Faith and Wes. But you couldn't tell it from here.

He'd seemed so sincere when he'd found out about her and Charles breaking up. Like she really meant something to him. But then she'd found out about Lilah.

She'd been so sure, back when they'd done all that advertising to build up business, that Wesley had no interest in her. When those creepy puzzle demons thought she was Wesley's girlfriend, he'd nearly killed himself making it clear they'd gotten it wrong. And he'd always been so awkward around her, like he didn't know what to say if it didn't have a book attached. After all that humiliating business over her childish crush on Angel, she wasn't going to go there again.

Even when Charles implied Wesley was…interested (when she and Charles first started dating), she'd known he was wrong. That kiss, and all that stuff about Wesley feeling something for her, didn't mean anything. She felt an unaccountable sadness at the thought.

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Giles was not happy. The helicopter clearly had a Wolfram and Hart logo on the side, and when he'd questioned the pilot, the woman had readily told him about Angel's CEO status at Wolfram and Hart. He knew all about the corporation and it's ties to supernaturally powerful evil creatures. Their leading role in organized evil throughout the world, and probably beyond, was infamous.

Giles scowled at Angel, who was laughing with Buffy and obviously bonding…again. However, at this point, everyone was exhausted and needed the safety and protection Angel was willing to provide.

After all, except for the Watcher's Academy, there was really very little of the official council left. After that interesting call from the solicitors in Britain earlier this week, Giles knew his little group could manage their own affairs once they got on their feet. In fact, he needed to make a call as soon as possible. But first…he looked at Wesley and Faith.

If the former watcher's outer change was any indication of his inner change, then the man was dramatically different. Giles' eyes narrowed thoughtfully, the question was 'different how?'

Faith vigorously defended Wesley's abilities when the subject came up. Willow, overhearing the rather…heated conversation, also felt compelled to definitively agree with Faith's assessment. However, Giles noticed Willow displaying a certain discomfort during the conversation. What exactly did she know about the 'Rogue Demon Hunter?'

Oh yes, Giles had heard about Pryce's poncy adventures playing 'Road Warrior.' He almost laughed out loud in the lobby. In fact he had laughed, long and hard, when he originally heard about it more than three years ago. Looking over the man today though, he had to admit, the title had more bite. Gone were the pompous geeky bumbler, the tidy suit, the glasses, and the clean-shaven look.

As he watched, Wesley laughed easily at something Faith said and they both grinned at the shared moment. But despite the more relaxed composure, Pryce had an edge, a dangerous edge. That wasn't necessarily a recommendation considering the Wolfram and Hart angle.

Giles sighed. He was very tired. He gathered himself together, pushing away the exhaustion. His face hardened into determination as he moved over to the pair. Time to find out what was going on.

………………………… ………………………………………………………………………….

"So tell me Pryce, what exactly is Wolfram and Hart's big plan for Faith?" Wesley turned at the older watcher's overly calm voice.

He looked the man squarely in the eyes, "Wolfram and Hart doesn't have any plans for Faith, or any of you. We simply stepped in and provided the help Buffy indicated your group of survivors needed.

As far as Faith goes, I have a team of lawyers currently working on a plan of attack. They may be evil, but apparently efficiently so—as long as they understand the strict limits I expect them to work within. I anticipate a reasonably quick and successful appeal based on 'new evidence' that allows Faith the freedom to do her work without fear of reprisal. I should be able to brief you both with details tomorrow." Giles frowned at Wesley.

Faith's smile faltered when she heard the words 'Wolfram and Hart,' "What does Wolfram and Hart have to do with this, Wes? They're the jerks that hired me to kill Angel! Aren't they like evil central?" Giles said grimly, "Yes Faith, that's exactly what they are."

Wes looked at both of them, "Yes, I quite agree. In the four years we've been working in Los Angeles, we've spent most of our time and energy fighting them and their nefarious plans. However, after we stopped the beast and the apocalypse, and then defeated Jasmine…,"

At the other two's blank looks, Wesley shook his head, "It doesn't matter. She was just another threat against the world. In any case, they offered us control of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart as a…reward for stopping the unscheduled ending of the world. Apparently, they like to keep things on their own timetable."

"And you think you can trust them?" Giles said incredulously.

"No, of course not," Wesley replied firmly. "I have no illusions about the arrangement. But there's an enormous amount of good we can do with their resources. And the fact is, if we are there we can ameliorate their methods and limit their operations."

Giles looked unconvinced, "I would assume they could say the very same thing about you people."

"Quite true." Wesley looked very tired, "No doubt they are using us and we are using them. But there's an old saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Perhaps we will only be working there for a little while. But we may be able to get a much better idea of how they work and what they're planning in the time we're there. In the meantime, they have tremendous resources that you might as well take advantage of." Giles snorted at the idea.

"No, really. For example, I know the Council's research materials are mostly destroyed. However, Wolfram and Hart has an extensive library and I plan to copy as much of it as I can while we're there. It wouldn't really be particularly more difficult to copy two as one."

"Are you trying to bribe me?" Giles suggested sourly.

Wesley leaned forward emphasizing his message, "No, I'm just suggesting you take whatever you can from Wolfram and Hart, while we control it, with no strings attached. I guarantee there will be no ramifications for you. Someone may have to pay somewhere down the line. But if they do, it will be us, not you. And, no matter what, we will probably incur that price just by being there."

"You said that team of lawyers was working by specific rules set by you. Exactly what rules?" Giles, by habit, reached up to remove the glasses he used to wear and, when he discovered they were gone, instead rubbed his eyes.

Wesley spoke like he was reciting from one of his books, "Not to kill or harm anyone, not to forcibly subvert anyone, and not to subvert anyone within the judicial, law enforcement, or political system not already within Wolfram and Hart's control."

"What!" Giles exclaimed incredulously.

Wesley put his hands up to forestall further argument, "There is no perfectly legal way to prevent Faith from going back to prison, Giles. This is the quickest and most efficient method for allowing Faith to remain free."

Wesley put his hands on his hips and sighed, "I screwed up, Giles. Faith is in the position she's in, at least partly, because of me. I have the means to rectify that mistake and I will if you let me."

Wesley stopped talking and waited expectantly for an answer.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Giles, obviously conflicted, looked at Wesley and Faith and then down. He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and said resignedly, "I don't approve of your joining Wolfram and Hart and I don't trust them. However, you're correct. Faith's problem isn't going to go away by any conventional means. We'll listen tomorrow. I'm going to go up to my room now." Giles walked away slowly, his exhaustion apparent in every step.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow too, Wes. And hey Wesley, I don't remember being in any position with you," Faith smirked, "not yet anyway."

"Faith!" Wesley sounded scandalized. Faith's smile grew broader, "I knew stuck-up watcher was in there somewhere. Don't worry, Wes. You're safe with me."

She pressed close until their lips were only a breath apart, her hand on his chest. Wesley, his face perplexed started to speak, but Faith laid her finger over his lips, silencing him. "If you played your cards right, you could probably get that little girl over there to show a little jealousy."

Wesley was momentarily startled, but then stepped back, "Thank you, Faith. But I'd rather conduct my own affairs." Faith chuckled and punched him lightly on the arm, "Wes! Affairs? That's the spirit! And here I thought I you were the one-woman man kind of guy?"

Faith, without appearing to look, slid her eyes sideways to Fred. Fred was openly watching Wesley and Faith and looked fit to spit. "Oooh, too late. I think she's gonna pop a blood vessel or somethin'."

Wesley refused to look in Fred's direction, "Faith, stay out of it! Fred has made it quite clear where she stands."

Faith unexpectedly hugged his arm, moving her head up on his shoulder, she whispered in his ear, "Don't look now, but I think she's plannin' on standin' over here." Faith snickered lightly, and then said more seriously, "You're a good guy, Wes. You deserve a shot at the brass ring."

She leaned back to look into his face and reached her hand up to gently caress his stubbled face, "Damn, Wes! Ya really got that whole rough and tumble look goin' for you now." She said brightly, "I sooo like it!" She patted his face and swayed away to the elevator, laughing.

Wesley chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What's so funny, Wes?" Fred's tight lipped look contradicted the idea that she might find the answer humorous. Wesley knew Faith's attempt to make Fred jealous was useless. However, he had to admit, she was certainly feeling something.

He decided not to explain what Faith was doing, "Faith has a strange sense of humor. I don't think it translates into words very well."

Fred looked over at the elevator that Faith was just getting on. Fred started to say something and then apparently thought better of it. She looked down, shifted from one foot to another uncertainly, and then spoke, " So, you goin' back out to look for your brother tonight?"

"Yes. In fact, I was just going to speak to Angel about it."

"Is she gonna go with you?"

Wesley automatically looked over at the now closed elevator doors, "No, I hadn't really given it any thought. All of this was just something to get done so I could get back to looking for Winston."

Fred relaxed slightly, "Well, you remember to call if you need anything…I mean, to help you find your brother and all. Wolfram and Hart have a lot of resources and stuff and they could probably help if you know what you need help with, that is assuming you know what you need to know that is and you don't trust them any farther than you can throw them, not that you'll actually be throwin' them or anything." Fred looked up expectantly after she finished, her nervousness obvious in her speech.

Wesley marveled at her ability to speak continuously without breathing. He wondered, a rather spurious thought, whether a vampire (who didn't have to breath after all) would be able to talk as long. He could, of course, ask Angel. But, and he smiled a little inside at this, he was pretty sure the vampire would agree that Fred would win hands down.

God, he loved her. He spoke gently, "Thank you, Fred. I will."

He spoke softly, but his intense gaze seemed to burn straight into her. She felt something flip-flop inside her and lowered her eyes to stop the overwhelming emotion. She mumbled as she moved over to the elevator, "Okay. Well, I'm going up to see Willow about something we were talking about earlier. I'll…uh…see you later."

She stopped and looked straight at him, her words firm and fierce, "You be careful."

Wesley replied lightly, "Yes, thanks, I will."

Wesley watched Fred's departure and then approached Angel and Buffy, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, "I'm leaving now, Angel. I'm going to my flat to shower and change and then resume the search." He tugged his shirt away from his chest ruefully, "These clothes are starting to feel attached."

Buffy looked up, her face solemn, "Sorry to hear about your brother, Wesley." Wesley replied quietly, "Thank you."

Angel stood, "Are you sure you should go out? I mean, when was the last time you slept?"

"I don't have a choice, Angel. Look, I put everything aside because of the emergency. But now it's time for me to get back to the job I have to do!"

"Okay, right. Gunn needs to stay here; at least until the Sunnydale group gets some rest." All three of them smiled at the thought of someone stupid enough to attack the group once they were on their feet again. "But I'll go get some weapons and meet you in front of your place, Wes. I think I want to gear up a little better this time."

Wes silently nodded his acceptance and turned to leave.

"So, want me to come with? I bet we could get Faith in on the action too," Buffy asked, standing slowly.

Angel thought for a second, "I think we should find out where he is first. We may ask for some help later though."

Buffy moved closer to Angel and said lightly, "Alright, just remember, Buffy's slayer service, on-call, 24-7." Buffy gently kissed Angel and then walked away.

Angel and Wes watched her moving toward the elevator. Wesley commented, "She's quite a woman." Angel nodded, "Oh yeah."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Wesley took a deep breath as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He really was very, very tired. He slipped inside flicking on the light switch, spreading a soft glow over the open main room.

He saw his brother Winston standing in the middle, his foot on the body of Wesley's landlord, Mr. Bugatti, like a hero standing over a vanquished foe.

Before he could react, something slammed into the back of his head creating a kaleidoscope of exploding light—and then nothing.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

He was drowning. He sputtered and struggled to breath. Choking, he shook his head seeking an opportunity to get a clear breath. He stopped and held his head still at the violent pain each shake brought it. His arms were held in two vices. Water dripped from his face and as his eyes cleared, he saw Winston smiling, negligently holding an empty bowl dripping the remains of the water on his floor.

Wesley tried to jerk back involuntarily. But he immediately discovered he was on his knees with a grinning vampire holding each of his arms. He felt a little embarrassed when he realized one was a spindly teen who'd obviously had a raging acne issue before being turned and the other, reminding him a little of Buffy, was tiny and blonde and dressed like an 80's valley girl.

His impression (valley girl, not Buffy), and embarrassment, was amplified when she giggled and rolled her eyes at his attempts to break free. Six other vampires were scattered around the room. Recognizing the uselessness of trying to break free, he stopped his struggles and focused on his brother.

Winston put the bowl on the coffee table next to the various weapons Wes normally carried about his person—all but one. Wesley kept his face carefully blank as he looked up at his brother.

Winston had discarded the glasses he used to wear and was dressed in clothes from Wesley's closet. The beginnings of a five o'clock shadow covered his lower face. He smiled at Wesley and picked a dagger up from the coffee table.

Wesley knew if he was going to accomplish anything, he needed his arms free. The best way to accomplish that was to strike at Winston's overweening ego. He commented sarcastically, "Are you really so afraid of me that you need to keep me on my knees? How many minions does it take for you to feel safe?"

Winston flared at the criticism, "I don't need anyone else around in order to clip your wings, Wussley!" He took an angry step towards Wesley, but stopped, visibly trying to control his temper. He waved the other vampires in closer and then nodded to the two holding Wesley's arms. The two minions let go.

Wesley slowly got to his feet putting a hand to a substantial bump on the back of his head.

Smirking, Winston clearly felt he held all the cards, "You haven't asked how I got in? Your landlord was kind enough to let me in when I explained how I locked myself out." Winston negligently waved the dagger to point at the body. Mr. Bugatti lay sprawled on a blanket, one hand reaching out as if he was asking for succor. His torn out throat and staring eyes confirmed he was past help.

"When I asked if we could come in, he said sure before he mentioned what a strange question that was." Winston paused reflectively, "He was the owner after all. He seemed to have a fairly high impression of you, before all the violence of course, despite your appearance."

Wesley stated angrily, "Don't you have anything better to do with your time than look like me?"

Winston smiled, "Oh, but it's such a challenge!"

It was such fun winding Junior up.

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To Be Continued…


	5. Flashpoint

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Five)**

**By Kith**

Author's Note: I won't be able to update for at least a week after this part. I'm still buffing out part six and school comes first. After that, the updates will be even slower. That's because up to part five, I've been updating parts I'd already written (while I work on the rest of the story). From now on, however, I can only update as I write. Don't worry though, I will finish this story. It'll just have to fit into my busy life.

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I always appreciate the feedback!

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Smirking, Winston clearly felt he held all the cards, "You haven't asked how I got in? Your landlord was kind enough to let me in when I explained how I locked myself out." Winston negligently waved the dagger to point at the body. Mr. Bugatti lay sprawled on a blanket, one hand reaching out as if he was asking for succor. His torn out throat and staring eyes confirmed he was past help.

"When I asked if we could come in, he said sure before he mentioned what a strange question that was." Winston paused reflectively, "He was the owner after all. He seemed to have a fairly high impression of you, before all the violence of course, despite your appearance."

Wesley stated angrily, "Don't you have anything better to do with your time than look like me?"

Winston smiled, "Oh, but it's such a challenge!"

It was such fun winding Junior up.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Angel pulled up to Wesley's apartment and parked. It was a beautiful, clear, moonlit night and the pleasantly warm air caressed his skin. He took in a deep unnecessary breath. It was a good night for a hunt. He estimated the time and decided Wesley was probably still in the shower. He leaned back to relax and wait.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Winston took an inspection tour around his brother, looking up and down at him. Wesley was reminded of a general inspecting a slovenly soldier. Wesley stood, with complete disinterest, staring straight ahead.

"You know, it's actually quite funny. I dressed up for the part and everything and look at you! Here I come in all 'Mr. Chips' and I apparently should have done a 'Rambo'."

Wesley quirked up an eyebrow, "I see you managed to keep up with the latest at the cinema, despite Father's rather rigorous regimen."

Winston swept his arms wide. "Ah, well, after your absolutely brilliant performance at the Hellmouth, there wasn't much else for it but to get stuck in and get the job done, little brother. You may have made the mistakes, but we paid for them." He'd stopped directly in front of Wesley, glaring at Wesley as if daring him to deny it.

Wesley looked straight at Winston, "I was perfectly willing to pay for my own cock-ups. Unfortunately, the council, 'and father', choose to leave me here, with insufficient funds to come home and be lectured endlessly about my inadequacies."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fred watched intently while Willow spread an ochre colored sand over a map of the city. Willow muttered a few words under her breath and, as both women flinched back closing their eyes, all the sand blew off the map in a red whirlwind dissipating into nothingness. Both women bent over the map to look at the one location with sand still on it.

Willow pointed, "That's where Wesley's brother is at."

Fred looked in growing horror, "But that's Wesley's apartment building!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Did you ever consider, perhaps if you had come back, you'd be the vampire and I'd be the fearless watcher trying to stake you. Of course, I'd still be a watcher, unlike you." Winston laughed tauntingly.

Wesley replied calmly, "Well, it looks like neither of us are watchers anymore."

"True, quite true," Winston turned away abruptly. "I suppose it's up to dear Mary now. Of course she's a girl so she'll never live up to Father's standards." Winston turned back to look at Wesley, "I always rather thought that was why you couldn't live up to Father's standards either."

Wesley's jaw tensed in anger, but he showed no other sign of acknowledgement.

A phone rang in Winston's jacket. He nodded his head and the vampires around Wesley held him tightly again, while the acne scarred teen jerked Wesley's head back and firmly covered his mouth with one hand.

Winston flipped the phone open and answered, "Pryce here…He is?...Well, don't worry my dear. He can't get in here without an invitation and I can assure you he won't get one." The vampires in the room snickered quietly, while Wesley desperately struggled, making unintelligible noises under the confining hand, until Winston, irritated, motioned for quiet.

Acne boy, trying to keep Wesley quiet, grabbed Wesley's throat with his other hand, choking Wesley into silence.

Winston continued, "No, I'm quite safe. I'll call Angel and inform him. Thank you for the warning…Yes, I'll stay put until Angel arrives. Bye."

He snapped the phone closed and laughed, "I love this game! It's so fun. All those wasted years of stuffy academics and ridiculous watcher rules. I feel so free!"

He looked down at the phone, "I like that little bird of yours. She's pretty. All those letters to Mary about your little 'family', pictures and all." Winston suddenly realized his intended audience was ominously quiet and looked up. Wesley was sagging in the arms of his captors, his face red, and unconscious—or dead.

Winston strode up, yelling, "Let him go, you idiots!" Wesley dropped to his knees as the frightened minions let go and backed off.

Before Wesley could fall flat on his face, Winston grabbed his collar, shaking him back and forth. Winston said worriedly, "Wesley? Wesley?" Wesley, his head flapping back and forth, began coughing and reached up with one hand to grip his brother's fist. Winston immediately loosed his hold, supporting his brother, but not shaking him.

Winston stroked Wesley's face in an obscene mockery of affection and said soothingly, "That's better. Nobody's allowed to kill you, Wesley. Nobody but me."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Fred cut off the call and then began frantically dialing another number. Willow, curious, said, "What's wrong? You got through to him, right?"

Fred finished punching numbers and put the phone to her head. While she waited for an answer to her call, she answered Willow, "That wasn't Wesley!" She stamped impatiently, "Come on, come on. Please have a charged phone for once!"

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Angel heard the chirrup of his phone and sat up. One of the law firm's lackeys had ingratiatingly replaced his battery during the whole 'Slayer rescue' operation. Now, if he could just figure out how to turn it on.

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Wesley jerked away from the vampire's hold. He was still on his knees and he tried to massage his throat back into working. Only partially successful, he rasped, spitting his words out angrily, "If you're going to kill me, just do it and be done!"

"I will, Wesley." Winston's moved closer, his face deadly serious, "I thought I'd play with you longer, but I realized if I had you on my side as my childe, I could take out your entire 'family' using you as the 'stake.'"

"Never." Wesley managed to scrape the word out. At the same time, he reached one hand surreptitiously into the inner lining of his other sleeve. Tugging on a loose thread, he opened a small pocket sewn in there.

"You and I are family, Wesley. Part of the same blood. We are brothers, more than that, we are twins and that means we have a special connection! I plan to make that true forever!"

Wesley lowered the hand with the now opened pocket inside his jacket sleeve lining. He cupped the hand to allow the powder inside to flow into his hand. He moved his other hand more vigorously at his throat to keep attention away from his activities. His voice was a little stronger as he spoke, "You're not my brother, You're the thing that killed him."

Winston smiled, "Oh yes, the party line. I have the most interesting tale to tell. But we'll just have to continue that chat later."

He grabbed Wesley's collar again, menace in every move, and his face shifted into the distorted ridges and fangs of a vampire. Wesley gaped at the change. He'd known Winston was a vampire. But seeing him like this made it…real. He felt a pang at the loss of his brother. They'd never gotten along, but Winston was right. They were connected.

As Winston leaned over to bite, Wesley slammed his open palm into Winston's nose, threw the powder into a circle around him, and dropped to the ground shouting, "Cremo onmino cito infiri!"

Winston, cried out in pain cradling his damaged face, but still had the presence of mind to bodily throw himself over the couch as he heard Wesley's shout. At the same time the front door slammed open and Angel charged in, just in time to be thrown back out by a blistering explosion of blast and flame. Loud, high pitched screams were suddenly cut off in the swirling fire and smoke. The flames died down almost as fast as they had come. All that was left was smoke and silence.

"Wesley? Wesley! Where are you?" Angel picked his way carefully through the thick smoke, small bits of plaster crunched underfoot at each step. Hearing the sound of coughing, Angel moved towards the center of the room. He could dimly make out a huddled form on the floor, chunks of plaster scattered around it.

"Wesley?" Angel helped the man up, who immediately bent over double as he started another coughing fit.

The smoke slowly cleared enough to tell the rest of the room was empty. Wesley was able to speak, his throat raw and rough, "I think I immolated them. Did you see my br…um, Winston? Angel, propping up the Englishman, shook his head, "No, Wes."

In the distance they could both hear sirens. "Let's get you out of here so you can breath." Angel started to guide the other man out of the room.

"Hey, Wussley! We'll continue this little heart-to-heart later." Winston leaned against a window at the far end of the room.

Wesley croaked out the words angrily, "You soulless fiend! You stay away from us!"

Angel was torn between supporting his friend or letting him go and charging Winston.

Winston stood and said cheekily, "I'll give you fiend, but who said I don't have a soul?" With that he crashed through the window's glass.

"Go after him," Wesley's voice was barely above a whisper. Wesley pushed away from Angel and clutched the door frame, supporting himself. Angel ran over to the window and jumped out.

The sirens wailed loudly in Wesley's ears as he slumped down to the ground.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

"How did you know it wasn't me?" Wesley's voice was almost back to normal. He and Fred sat in his office waiting for Angel to finish talking to the Lawyers who'd gotten Wesley released from the police station.

"Well, you…I mean, Winston called me 'my dear'. Not really something I think of you saying." Wesley looked away uncomfortably. Fred continued on blithely, "And I remembered, after he started talking, that you had to borrow a phone at the medical section because you'd lost your cell phone. Good thing I didn't remember that before hand, or I never would have called. So, how are you doing?"

Wesley rubbed his bruised throat, "Not too bad. My throat and ribs are a little sore and I do seem to keep adding to my collection of bruises. But I'll be okay."

Fred's worry was apparent, "You're not going back out looking for Winston now are you?"

Wesley dropped his head back tiredly against the headrest of the chair, "No, Fred. If Angel couldn't find him, I suppose I might as well wait. I'll give up for tonight and start fresh tomorrow-after I meet with Faith and Giles that is. In fact, I thought I might just sleep here tonight. After dealing with the police for three hours, I've had enough fun for the night. I'd probably still be at the police station if it wasn't for my evil lawyers. They seem to have convinced the police that I was a victim and not Mr. Bugatti's murderer." Wesley flashed a small smile briefly, "Ironic that its true. Anyway, I have a lead I can only follow up during the day."

Fred asked curiously, "You got a lead? What lead is that?"

Wesley reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card, "This was on the floor after Winston left. It could have belonged to Mr. Bugatti, but I think I probably would have noticed it beforehand if it was. It was in plain sight."

Wesley closed his eyes and sighed, "I found it when I was putting my weapons away. I didn't want the police to find them. Thank God I took the bars out of the closet. I can't imagine how I would have explained…" Suddenly realizing exactly what he was saying, Wesley snapped his eyes open and his mouth shut. Damn! He really needed to sleep.

Fred was looking intently at the card and apparently didn't hear him, "What in the world would your brother want with a real estate agent? I didn't think vampires bought real estate?" I thought they kinda' ate their way into places to stay?"

Wesley shook his head, "I don't know. But I intend to find out tomorrow."

"Wesley, I was wondering, why did your brother call you Junior? Are you named after your father?"

Wesley gave a short humorless laugh and turned his head to look at Fred, "No! The last thing my father would want is for me to share is his name. I'm sure he regrets having to share his last name. As far as Winston and his junior comment, that was just his little joke. A constant reminder that he was the heir and I wasn't."

"Why did Winston hate you so much?" Fred looked down at her hands, twisting them together. Her hair covered her face as she spoke, "I'll understand if you don't want to tell me. I mean, it must be painful to talk about it."

Wesley leaned his head back again and looked unseeing at the far wall, "There isn't much about my family I can talk about without pain being a factor. Even though my brother was the heir, and my father treated him far better than my sister or I, he was also held to a higher standard and expected to succeed."

"A higher standard than you? Wesley, I don't know anything about your childhood, but you seem to be almost obsessive about details."

"Oh, I was held to a high standard too. My father just always assumed I would fail and stood ready to correct my every fault. He could be quite…harsh."

Fred was perplexed, "How was that different from your brother?"

Wesley leaned his chair back, exhaustion overwhelming his normal reticence, "The difference is, my father always assumed Winston would succeed and for the most part, he was right. However, I started to far outstrip my brother in academics and I'm sure it irked both of them. My brother was very physically able and intelligent, but he just didn't have the same facility, or patience, for ancient languages or research as I did."

"To my father, the fact that I could succeed just meant the bar was set too low. My brother felt that pressure and made sure I…suffered for it. In many ways I paid more for my successes than my failures."

Fred found it hard to believe a brother could be that way. But a father! How could a father do such terrible things to his own son, "Forgive me Wesley, but your father sounds…evil."

Wesley looked down at his hands as if he'd never seen them before, "I once told Angel a Father doesn't have to be possessed by a demon to terrorize his children. I'm living proof."

Fred speechless, moved around the desk, knelt down, and took Wesley's hands gently. He looked down at her. His eyes at first tormented by a reality he couldn't change. However, her touch communicated a small degree of peace and he relaxed. "Thank you," he whispered. "Your welcome," Fred whispered back.

Wesley reached one hand up to gently cup her face. She flinched slightly and he drew a deep shuddering breath and withdrew his hands, sliding the chair to face the desk.

Fred regretted her rejection as soon as she did it. The momentary flash of pain in his eyes disappeared behind the shutters he slammed down to hide his feelings. She hated that cold, blank, emotionless look he'd worn all last year. Watching it reappear hurt. She didn't know what to say, how to take it back, and her scattered thoughts sought something, anything to say. Her tones sounded high and stilted, "Seems strange, doesn't it, Wesley. How different you and Winston are. You bein' twins an' all."

Wesley realized his hands were tightly fisted and laid them flat on the desk. He reflected over her question, "Yes, I agree. However, there it is. I suppose if you joined the two of us together, that son might have satisfied my father's ideal of perfection."

Wesley sighed, "However, I doubt it."

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	6. Boundaries

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Six)**

**By Kith**

Fred regretted her rejection as soon as she did it. The momentary flash of pain in his eyes disappeared behind the shutters he slammed down to hide his feelings. She hated that cold, blank, emotionless look he'd worn all last year. Watching it reappear hurt. She didn't know what to say, how to take it back, and her scattered thoughts sought something, anything to say. Her tones sounded high and stilted, "Seems strange, doesn't it, Wesley. How different you and Winston are. You bein' twins an' all."

Wesley realized his hands were tightly fisted and laid them flat on the desk. He reflected over her question, "Yes, I agree. However, there it is. I suppose if you joined the two of us together, that son might have satisfied my father's ideal of perfection."

Wesley sighed, "However, I doubt it."

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Wesley closed and then leaned against the door to one of Wolfram and Hart's 'guest' quarters. They found out about the rooms when Gunn brought Lorne and Fred to Wolfram and Hart after Winston's attack.

Although a few of them, like the one Wesley was in, looked like luxury apartments, they were all actually glorified holding cells. Beautifully appointed, and used in the past for visitors (both willing and unwilling), the Angel group had already figured out they would use them to sleep over when work ran too late and they were too tired.

Dear Lord, he was tired. He closed his eyes trying to will his body to move to the bedroom. Still, he slumped at the door feeling like the distance to the bed was just too far away. Angel had interrupted his and Fred's conversation. Probably for the best. He was too tired to handle the discussion with any tact or patience and she was obviously uncomfortable with it. He'd sensed that Angel wanted to talk about something but Wesley was in no mood for any more in-depth dialogue tonight. Wesley'd cut it short after a little discussion updating on the current crises. A sudden knock at the door jarred his thoughts. He sighed loudly and snorted amusedly at the thought that flitted through his brain unexpectedly, "No rest for the wicked." He was a little surprised when he realized he had said it aloud. Shaking his head wearily, he stood up, turned, and opened the door.

Angel stood there, hands out apologetically, "Look, I know you're tired, but we really need to talk."

Wesley leaned one hand against the doorframe, while the other was still holding the doorknob. He was flabbergasted. Finally he said, "Angel, we just talked upstairs. What could be so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

Angel looked down at the floor and then up at Wesley, "It can't wait, Wes."

Wesley turned, leaving the door open, and headed towards the small refrigerator in the kitchenette. "Do you want a drink? I don't think I'm going to be able to carry on at this point without one."

Angel tentatively reached a hand out expecting to meet a barrier and found his hand freely passed through the doorway. "Uh, sure. How'd you know I didn't need an invite?" He moved in and looked the room over.

"What?" Wesley looked back over his shoulder briefly, "Oh, I didn't. I simply forgot. However, it isn't really surprising. You do technically own the building, you know, and it's not like I actually live here." Wesley stooped down and scooped out two beers from the well stocked frig.

Angel stopped in place at a sudden realization, surprise evident in his voice, "You didn't do the uninvite ritual at your apartment."

Wesley froze for a moment and then slowly straightened. He turned and looked at Angel for a few seconds, his face unreadable. He dropped his eyes, took a deep breath, and then moved over to a plush red leather chair, waving Angel into another and put one beer on the coffee table between them while sitting down. He twisted the lid off of the other and took a swig. "Hmmm, pretty good," he looked at the label, "Good Lord! Pitfield's Hoxton Best imported from London. Their Dark Star is even better. But this is very good. Haven't had it in a while. Too bad they chill them." He rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the film of moisture on the green glass clearing a tiny window to the dark contents within.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, they didn't really use ice much anywhere when I came over to the States," Angel grabbed the other beer and took off the cap. He turned the cap over and over in his hand.

Wesley was slouched in his chair, exhaustion apparent in every movement, "So, you needed to talk?"

Angel looked up, stopped playing with the cap, and started to speak and then stopped. He put the cap and the beer down and tried again, "I...I needed to talk to you about Winston."

Wesley laid the cool, dew covered bottle against a particularly annoying bruise on the side of his head and sighed, "You want to tell me he has a soul, don't you."

Angel's surprise was clear in his voice, "How'd you know?"

"It's really not much of a guess, what with that exit line of my brother's. In any case, I assume you could sense it. I supposed it's good to have it confirmed."

Angel responded quietly, "Yeah. How do suppose he got it?"

"Well, I have my suspicions." Wesley seemed to focus inward for a moment and then shook himself back to the conversation, "However, I'm too tired to speculate right now. It doesn't especially matter in any case." Wesley looked into the dark green bottle he was holding as if it held the secrets inside. He broke off staring and took another few gulps.

He's attacked Fred, Gunn, and you. He'll turn you and kill us all if he gets the chance." Angel's face was grim. "Despite the soul, we're still going to have to kill him, Wes."

Wesley slumped a little more in the chair laying his head back, "Yes, I know."

............................................................................................................

A little later, Angel hesitated at the front door as he was leaving. Wesley didn't bother to turn as he moved wearily in the other direction towards the bedroom door, "Just let yourself out, Angel. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wes?" Angel's hand tightened around the door knob as he spoke.

Wesley paused to lean against the door frame but didn't turn around; he spoke quietly, "Yes?"

Angel spoke quietly too, "Why didn't you do the uninvite at your place?"

Wesley turned and looked at Angel, a mixture of sadness and resignation on his face, "At first, I couldn't," he gestured towards his throat. "Afterwards, I just didn't care anymore." Wesley turned away again, "Goodnight, Angel." He stepped into the bedroom and softly shut the door."

Angel realized he was in danger of crushing the doorknob and released it. He looked at the bedroom door for a minute, took a deep unnecessary breath, and pulled the front door shut.

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The next morning, feeling refreshed, Wesley arrived at his office from the 'guest' quarters in the building. The exhaustion of the yesterday's events combined with the lack of sleep had caused him to practically fall into bed asleep, despite his roiling emotions.

Waiting on his desk, from the lawyers, was the brief on Faith's situation. After a call to Giles setting up the meeting, he leaned back in the chair he'd sat in yesterday, when Fred had kneeled in front of him.

He'd been so worn out last night that he couldn't think straight. He'd reacted badly. She was trying to comfort him. She cared for him; he'd seen it in her eyes. It was unfair to hold a split-second, involuntary reaction against her.

He stood up. It was time to visit the Science Department.

.........................................................................................................

Fred stood looking out the window in her office. The usual ginormous stack of status reports sat on her desk waiting for her attention. Instead, she stared sightlessly at the Los Angeles skyline, completely ignoring the work. She was tired. She'd finally fallen asleep last night after tossing and turning restlessly for several hours.

Angel showed up in Wesley's office last night before Fred could say anything to try to heal the unintentional rift she'd created with Wes last night. What could she have said anyway? That she was sorry? That he scared her a little? That all her emotions went haywire around him? Her thoughts were still running around in circles about Wesley. There was no way she could have figured it all out last night—or this morning apparently.

She sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. Last night, Wesley, understandably distant, spoke briefly with Angel about the various issues of the police, Winston, and Faith. Then Wesley quietly, but firmly, excused himself to go the Wolfram and Hart's 'guest' quarters. She was using one herself, now that the Hyperion wasn't safe, just until she found a place of her own.

Wesley looked very tired last night. She hoped he was feeling more rested than she did...and forgiving.

"Penny for them," Knox's voice surprised her. She turned and looked at the young scientist. He was carrying a clipboard stuffed with papers and his other hand was slipped into the pocket of his white lab coat.

"What?" Fred asked.

Knox smiled genially, "A penny for your thoughts? Although, you know, I should probably offer more, with you being the boss and all, or maybe," he posed as if thinking, "you should pay me."

She smiled back at him, "I thought I did pay you already, um, figuratively anyway, you know, as the boss." Her voice ended on something like the tone of a question. She looked uncertainly at him, "Did you need something?"

Knox took his hand out of his pocket and waved towards the lab visible through the inner window, "Oh, yeah, we've got that experimental grenade design prototype," Knox leaned forward speaking confidentially, "without explosive or primer, for your approval. If you like it, we can take it out to the testing facility for a practical test. Then magic man can try adding the, you know, Hogwarts stuff." Knox made a mock hand motion of spell casting.

Fred replied, half amused and half serious, "Magic man is called Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Knox."

"Yeah, sorry." Knox didn't look or sound particularly sorry. "So, you wanna look?" He opened the door, took a step down, and held it open so she could follow. Fred laughed softly in amusement as she walked down the steps after Knox. At the bottom, Knox turned back to her and opened his mouth to speak. The prototype on the lab table captured her attention as she was stepping down and Fred misjudged the last step and stumbled.

Knox grabbed her as she fell and she put both her hands on his chest as he supported her. They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds and then she pulled away laughing nervously, muttered an apology, and was obviously a little embarrassed.

Knox smiled and they moved over to the new prototyped. Both leaned on the table, heads fairly close as they looked over the device.

.........................................................................................................

Wesley smiled a little as he walked through the door of the Science Department. He thought he heard the sound of her soft laughter up ahead. He started to turn the corner into the main room of the lab, when he saw the pair standing at the base of the stairs, in each other's arms, and apparently oblivious to anyone else. It felt like someone crushed his heart in a vice.

He stepped back around the corner, pressed against the wall, and tried to breathe. He heard her laugh again. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was the two of them in each other's arms, and a single tear slowly traced a path down his face. You'd think he'd have learned by now. But, as usual, the laugh was on him.

......................................................................................................

Giles had to admit, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was a changed man. The man Giles knew in Sunnydale would have talked endlessly and, for the most part, uselessly. But this man (it was hard to think of him as the same man) was sporting fresh bruises around his throat and refused, firmly and politely, to talk about them. All Wesley would say, when Faith questioned him like a bulldog with a bone, was, "just took a little work home last night." His voice was slightly hoarse and he immediately changed the subject. This patent subterfuge failed to mollify the girl, who looked surprisingly worried about the man who'd been so instrumental in her original fall from grace.

Also, Pryce was true to his word. Although the man seemed grim and Giles detected some underlying tension (not surprising considering the bruises and what Giles had heard about Pryce's brother), Wesley listened alertly to the lawyers' plan. The former 'rogue demon hunter' emphatically refused to let Faith sign anything and after a rather pointed look from the man, the lawyers stopped asking.

The plan was simple enough; it included a large amount of fairly painless official record changing (something Wolfram and Hart were apparently adept at) and a certain percentage of bribes (another signature skill). The lawyers figured it would take a week.

Giles leaned back in his chair unhappily, he knew this was the only way to clear Faith's path. However, it was distasteful in the extreme to use these methods and this organization. As he looked at Wesley, he knew the man could see his discomfort. "Would you like to discuss this further, Giles?" Wesley asked quietly.

"No, no," Giles said with a sigh, "I know this is the only way. I simply don't like it."

"What about you, Faith? Is this what you want to do?" Wesley inquired. Faith was sitting with her feet up on the table.

Up until now, she had just listened while the lawyers and watchers hashed out the details, "Hey, no probs here. I know I didn't do my time, but I figure I'll make it up in Slayer duty, ya' know?" She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, "I've got a lot to make up for. You all are givin' me a second chance. I don't plan to blow it."

Giles lay his hand on hers reassuringly, "You won't, Faith. Never fear. There will be plenty of work for everyone." They shared a small look of understanding and then Faith looked at her two favorite watchers, her eyes shining.

.........................................................................................................

Angel met them as they walked out of the conference room. The lawyers scurried past, off to complete their nefarious deeds for (cough) good.

"So, how did everything go?" Angel looked uncomfortable in a suit and tie, his hand clutching a sheaf of papers. "Five by five, big guy. Wes has my back." Faith playfully punched Wesley's arm.

Wesley winced slightly and then smiled ruefully at Faith, massaging his arm briefly, "Good to know you've kept up your training, Faith." He looked at Angel, "The lawyers expect the process to take a week. Then Faith can travel freely without fear of incarceration. That is assuming she doesn't punch me hard enough to get charged with assault."

Faith hid a giggle behind her hand while she looked at Wesley, "Oh! Sorry! I've been around the teen Slayers so much lately, I forgot how wussy you watcher boys are."

Wes and Faith looked at each other with amusement, while Giles said dryly, "Yes, thank you Faith. I'm sure both Wesley and I appreciate your denigration of both our manhood and chosen vocation."

While Wesley looked astonished at Giles over this token acknowledgement of solidarity, Angel smiled and crossed his arms, "Faith, Giles, can I talk to you both in my office for a minute?" Wesley and Angel made eye contact for a second and Wesley gave a short nod and moved away. Giles noted the interchange and eyed Wesley's receding figure speculatively as Angel directed them into his office.

......................................................................................................

Wesley sighed and leaned back in the chair in his office, phone to his ear, listening. A business card rested squarely on the center of his desk.

"Hi! I'm Jean Rydell, O'Day Real Estate. We'll light the way to your new home. I'm either showing or closing on a house right now, however, if you leave a message..."

Wesley listened as the overly cheerful, tinny voice on the answering machine ran through its litany. He left a message and slowly hung up the phone. He'd give it a couple of hours and then go personally to the real estate office.

............................................................................................................

"Hi, Pryce here. We need to meet." Winston had no idea who he was talking to using Wesley's old cell phone. It didn't really matter as long as they thought he was Wesley. He almost snickered aloud. The phone address book just said 'team.' The man on the other end said cautiously, "Sure, what's the word?"

Word? What could the man possibly be talking about? Was that some kind of ridiculous American slang?

Winston, doing his best to sound like Wesley, replied, "There's something going on and we need to meet."

There was a pause and then the man said slowly, "Alright, where do you want to meet?"

Winston had given this a lot of thought. Wesley's apartment would have been the ideal meeting location. The site would have allayed any apprehensions of the guests. According to the minions watching Wesley's apartment, his dear little brother hadn't been back since the attack. Winston smirked, a flurry of police toadies had scurried in and out and some workmen entered to temporarily board up Winston's newly created 'exit'—but no Wesley.

His brother was such an idiot. As their father had consistently pointed out, Wesley always was incompetent, despite that unexpectedly effective counterattack at Junior's apartment. That was just a fluke. Toys and tired magic tricks. Old Wussley hadn't gone back to do the disinvite spell. That meant Winston still had a free invitation to enter. However, none of his minions did. In addition, the damage to the abode and crime scene accouterments would put anyone off. Not the attitude he wanted Wesley's friends to sport when he 'greeted' them. He grinned broadly as he spoke on the phone.

He thought he had the perfect place.

.........................................................................................................

"Angel, I just got a call from one of my team." Wesley words surprised Angel.

The vampire looked up from the stacks of interminable paperwork that seemed to arrive hourly, "Your team? You still have a team? I thought you...um...stopped doing that whole lone ranger thing, you know, with the Beast and all. You weren't thinking of going back to that were you? I thought you were back with us for good?" Angel stood awkwardly, his eyes a little uncertain.

Wesley stood in front of the desk, bewildered by the direction the conversation had taken, "I appreciate you're having all this unanticipated angst, but if you're quite done...?" Wesley quirked an eyebrow inquiringly.

Angel swallowed, shuffled some of the papers into a new stack, and nodded his assent. Wesley continued, "Right then. One of my team members, Hawkins, said someone called, using my old cell phone and pretending to be me. The caller, presumably Winston, wanted to meet my team. I thought we could handle that meeting instead?" Wesley quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small humorless smile to reach his lips.

Angel grinned back broadly and clapped his hands together loudly, "Now that's the first meeting since we got here that sounds worth going to!"

.........................................................................................................

To be continued...


	7. Meeting of the Minds

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Seven)**

**By Kith**

Author Note at end.

Angel swallowed, shuffled some of the papers into a new stack, and nodded his assent. Wesley continued, "Right then. One of my team members, Hawkins, said someone called, using my old cell phone and pretending to be me. The caller, presumably Winston, wanted to meet my team. I thought we could handle that meeting instead?" Wesley quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small humorless smile to reach his lips.

Angel grinned back broadly and clapped his hands together loudly, "Now that's the first meeting since we got here that sounds worth going to!"

………………………………………………………………………………………

At the end of the day, after some planning and preparation, the team had gathered in Angel's office to complete the final touches in the plan for the assault.

Wesley moved away from Angel's office, and into the conference room area attached to Angel's office, as the conversation between Danvers and Angel heated up. Danvers was one of Wolfram and Hart's special 'wet works' team leaders and he had gotten wind of the upcoming operation (how, they didn't know). Apparently Danvers resented being left out of the mission and was vehemently arguing his case.

Angel looked ready to explode and Wesley decided to avoid collateral damage by moving into the conference room. Gunn, oblivious of potential fallout, listened amusedly while he sat on a corner of Angel's desk and leaned on his new axe (similar to the old hubcap axe he used to use, but more professionally made, and a little bigger). Angel and Danvers continued the virulent discussion which fortunately was just out of earshot in the conference area.

Wesley looked over the array of weapons strewn across the table. Fred was checking out her crossbow, but looked up as she asked, "Did you call the other people listed on your cell phone?"

Wesley, who had picked up his crossbow and begun a similar check, paused to answer, "I called a few. I didn't really have many numbers on the phone. Mostly some contacts for books, supplies, and information. Certainly no one who would meet me somewhere without question. In fact, some of them would prove rather difficult for my brother to manage if he did meet them." Wesley smirked at the thought.

"Are you sure you should be doing this, I mean with your ribs and all? Fred inquired.

Wesley concentrated heavily on his crossbow, checking the firing mechanism, "I'm fine, Fred. There's no need for concern."

Fred, gathering her courage, gripped the crossbow as tightly as the emotion gripping her, "Wesley, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. When we were together, I didn't mean…I mean, I didn't want…"

Wesley interrupted her peremptorily, "There's no need to explain, Fred. I understand perfectly. I always have." His face grim, he abruptly walked away leaving the crossbow on the table.

Fred sighed looking after him. She had sounded like an idiot. She watched as he got on the elevator. Putting down her crossbow, she moved quickly over to the now closed doors of the elevator. Watching the dial above the doors, she was surprised when the elevator went all the way to the rooftop entrance.

Pushing aside her nervousness, she pressed the button and waited impatiently for her chance to talk to Wesley again. It was time to hash this out.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Wesley was sitting on one of the air exchangers scattered across the roof. His long legs stretched out languidly in front of him, hands on either side of him, and his very posture spoke of defeat. He was staring sightlessly out at the city bathed in the first soft glow of the beginning sunset.

Fred approached hesitantly, still not sure how to begin. Silently to herself she repeated over and over, 'Don't babble. Don't babble.'

Wesley, without moving, said very quietly, "I've always liked being up high like this. It's one of the few good things I got from my father."

Fred stopped; surprised he knew she was there. She replied, "Y-You left without letting me finish."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "We'll be leaving soon, Fred. We really don't have time for this right now." He brought his hands together and looked down at them.

She stepped up next to him, "When exactly would be the right time, Wesley?" She waved her hand around vaguely, "This is our lives. We're always fightin' some evil something or other."

Wesley looked at her for the first time, speaking angrily, "What is there to say, Fred? Are you sorry about yesterday? It isn't necessary. You know how I feel and I know…" He looked away, the anger suddenly draining out of him, "how you feel."

"How do I feel, Wesley?" Fred spoke with soft determination, just a slight tremble in her voice.

Wesley pushed the words out painfully, almost like they were forced out of him, "You don't love me! You can apparently love almost anyone but me."

Fred slapped him without thinking and then drew her hand to her mouth in shock. Wesley, his cheek reddening, face tight, slowly stood, with his hands clenched, and spoke tightly, "I suppose I deserved that."

He turned abruptly and walked over to the edge of the roof, once again looking out at the darkening city, "You have the right to care about whomever you want. I know that, Fred. But you need to leave me alone." He hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I can live without love. I've done it all my life. But you're…killing me. I know you mean well, that you're just sorry for me, and think of me as some kind of…brother. But I don't want pity and I don't need another sister."

Fred moved over to him, gently touching his arm, "I don't pity you, Wesley. How could I pity someone who's done as much for me as you have?"

He jerked away, turning so she couldn't see his face, giving a short mirthless laugh and speaking bitterly, "Gratitude! Oh, dear God save me from gratitude!" He shook his head as though admitting defeat. He looked back at her, his face blank, but his eyes sad, "It's hard for me to share my feelings, Fred. I learned early on the high price of exposing my feelings to others. Whatever it is that I saw in your eyes yesterday, made me feel like I was turned inside out. Like every defense I had was breached and I'd been peeled away with nothing left but raw nerves and my innermost thoughts exposed for humiliation." He looked away and took a deep shuddering breath, "If you feel nothing else for me, at least respect my need for some distance."

Fred took a step forward and touched his arm again, "Wesley, I…" Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the ringing of Wesley's new cell phone.

Wesley pulled it out of his inner jacket pocket, "Pryce here…yes…she's here..….right, we'll be right there." He snapped the phone shut, and without looking at her, he pulled gently from her grasp as he put the phone away, "Everything's set. It's time to go."

He strode to the roof access door that led to the elevator when she called out, "This-this isn't over Wesley. We still need to talk."

He paused briefly, his hand on the doorknob, and keeping his back to her so she still couldn't see his face; he said firmly, "No Fred, we don't. Maybe you do, but I've said everything I want to on this subject." Then he walked through the door and was gone.

Left alone on the roof with her chaotic thoughts, Fred moved over to the edge of the roof. Did she act like he was her brother? Is that how she though about him? Fred looked at the sunset, now in full bloom, sending a deep reddish glow between the tall buildings whose lights were starting to turn on.

How _did_ she think about him? When she'd come back from Pylea, she'd spent enormous amounts of time and energy trying to rein in her jumbled thoughts, her craziness, because her brain was in overdrive from the trauma of living as a slave, a nothing, in a demon dimension. Dealing with complex thoughts and emotions (other than the simple, clean, orderly processes of math and science) had been beyond her.

But now, she thought… She didn't… He'd always been there for her, for all of them, except when he'd been apart from them for the past year. But even then, he'd been there (even though they hadn't been there for him). When Gunn asked him for help to save her, when Angel was under the entire ocean (she still couldn't believe Wesley'd been able to find Angel in the whole damn Pacific Ocean for God's sake!). All that research he'd done on Cordelia and the time he'd come to warn about Wolfram and Hart's plans to capture her (alright, that'd turned out to be a scam on Lilah's part, but he'd _tried_).

She scowled at the though of Lilah and Wesley. She still didn't understand how he could do _that_ with _that_ b-witch! She steered her thoughts away from the evil, fashion plate.

All the other things he'd done, like Professor Siedel (her brain skittered away from that memory too) and that incredible shot at Skip. Skip was going to kill her and Wesley saved her life—again. She remembered the bitterness in Wesley's voice when he talked about gratitude. Was that what she felt then, just like he said—gratitude? Then she started to burn up at the thought of Lilah again. Noooo, it wasn't gratitude.

Shocked, she realized, she might have treated him like a brother in the past, maybe that's what she'd needed most when she'd come back after five years in Pylea. But that wasn't how she felt about him now. Maybe not ever.

She tilted her head down for a second and reflected on Wesley. The sunset was gone, leaving a city bathed in tiny lights. She raised her head and slowly smiled. She'd finally heard it.

Click!

…………………………………………………………………………………………

It was impossible to look at the old building without feeling a rush of nostalgia from collected memories, good and bad, created at this former hotel. It had only been a few days since they had stopped using the hotel, but already there was a sense of loss, a feeling of something gone that would never be again.

They crouched together at the front, careful to keep behind the wall, out of sight from the hotel. Incongruously, for nighttime, they all wore sunglasses. They also all had earpiece radios like SWAT teams use. They looked up at its simple facade; somehow made more gracious by the encroaching darkness, barely held back by two street lights. Up at the top they could barely see the name 'Hyperion.'

Gunn observed, "You sure about this Wes? It looks pretty deserted."

"Take a look for yourself, Gunn." Wesley held out the portable monitor showing people (presumably vampires) lounging in the lobby at strategic locations, ready to duck out of sight. He pushed a button and the monitor changed to a different view showing armed people waiting on the balcony overlooking the lobby.

"You know, it's really depressing how Monster Inc. was watching our every move when we lived here." Gunn looked up sharply at Wesley, "Hey! They didn't have them in…um…" he dropped his voice speaking softly, "the rooms we were sleeping in, did they?"

"I don't know really." Wesley admitted. "If they did, the cameras aren't connected now."

Gunn slapped the shaft of his axe into his hand angrily, "I think I'm gonna have a little talk with security tomorrow."

Wesley spoke softly, "Actually, I think the files and materials from the former Special Projects branch rolled into my department. If you like, I could help you look into it tomorrow." Wesley flicked a glance at Fred who looked armed for war. She had a long, straight, green canvas bag slung over one shoulder, a smaller, but bulging canvas bag over her other shoulder, a crossbow hanging from a military field belt (the belt was wrapped around her twice in order to fit), she was looking into a monitor of her own, and held her hand against her earpiece while talking quietly on it.

Wesley continued, "I do know there are a lot of videotapes in the surveillance room. I'm sure we have a demagnetizer somewhere. You could just wipe all the Hyperion tapes on principle. After all, it's not like there's anything on them that we don't already know about."

Gunn looked back at Wesley, relieved, "Yeah, yeah, I was thinking bonfire myself, but that'd be good." The former street fighter took off his sunglasses, took a quick glance at Fred to make sure she hadn't heard any of their conversation, and then looked directly into Wesley's eyes, "Thanks, man."

Wesley hesitated for a second and then briefly gave a slight smile in acknowledgment. Gunn grinned sheepishly as he looked a little embarrassed, gave a small shrug, and put his sunglasses back on. Wesley smiled back.

"Hey." Angel, holding the walkie-talkie the W&H team had recovered from the alley, held it up for everyone to hear. An American voice crackled over the small radio, "This is Two, food delivery is out front. Places everyone! Two to One, firefly, over."

Everyone paused at the next words, startled, as what sounded remarkably like the crisp British tones of Wesley's voice, came over the radio, "Roger that, Two. Firefly. All teams, switch now. Remember, no one kills mouse except me, over."

Wesley looked away from the others, obviously pained at the sound of his brother's voice.

"What was that all about?" Fred asked anxiously.

Gunn looked around the area searchingly, the only thing in view was a large, black, oversized van, "They know someone's out here. How did they see us? Do you think they have guards posted out here? I don't like it."

Angel nodded, "I don't either, but it's still a good plan. The van is warded against vampires, so they'll be safe. Are we ready, Fred?"

Fred nodded, taking her hand away from her earpiece and dragging the long canvas bag forward while she unzipped it.

"Good. Everybody got their sunglasses?" Angel scanned the group and then nodded, "Good. Let's go." Angel began to crouch down while staring intently at the hotel.

Wesley grabbed Angel's arm, "Angel, I think my brother knows we're here. At least, I think he knows I'm here."

Angel looked back at him, "Why do you say that?"

Wesley looked away and said softly, "Because I think I'm 'mouse.'"

Angel nodded, briefly touched Wesley's hand on his arm, pointed his sword in the direction of the hotel, crouched down, and moved forward to the entrance. Gunn and Fred followed closely.

Wesley cleared his throat and spoke briefly into his earpiece, "Entering now, go on signal." Four clicking noises came from the radio. Satisfied, Wesley followed Angel and the others in.

Angel threw both doors open wide and Gunn, with axe, and Wes, with crossbow, stood to each side and just behind, keeping the doors open. Approximately thirty vampires stood around the room carrying axes or swords. They were all grinning.

On the balcony like a reigning monarch, and looking frighteningly like Wesley, stood Winston; he was flanked on both sides by a row of vampires armed with crossbows. "Ahhh, the Blues Brothers. I knew comedy was a part of your life these days, Wesley. I didn't know you had such a big act."

Wesley's lips tightened, "Funny Winston, but you're the one who seems to be surrounding himself with a circus." The vampires around the room scowled and moved restlessly.

"Oh, these aren't the first line troops." The vampires moved even more restlessly at that, frowning as they looked at each other and up at Winston." I've held them in reserve. I'm sure you'll get to meet them, later." Winston leaned against the railing negligently, "You know, you've really changed, Wesley. Last time I saw you in England you couldn't have fought your way out of a paper bag. But now, the new look, the unexpected confidence, the fact that you're even here—what was it that the man on the phone said, 'what's the word?' I get it now; very, very good. And I must say, I was impressed by that little magic demonstration in your apartment and all those….interesting toys you had secreted about your person."

Wesley looked up at his brother, sadness visible in his face, "I'm sorry, Winston. You know I have to kill you."

Winston stood straight again, "What, no heartrending speeches about souled vampires? Or doesn't that apply to family?"

Shocked, Fred and Gunn both looked at Winston and Wesley. What did Winston mean by "souled vampires" and why didn't Wesley or Angel look surprised.

Wesley's gaze didn't waver, "You're killing people, Winston, lots of people, if this room is any example." He waved his arm at the room full of vampires. The vampires smiled at each other and focused in on Wesley.

Oh, I didn't kill _all_ these people; I've also done some recruiting. After all, even with father's superb training, and my," Winston smiled, "epiphany, I don't have quite this capacity for blood-letting."

"Hey, we gonna talk these guys to death or fight?" Gunn shifted his axe to a better position.

Wesley and Angel looked at each other and Wesley nodded. Angel quietly said, "Go." The men all stood aside creating a gap in the middle and, in the process, shoving the doors open even wider.

Fred stood in the gap holding what looked like a bazooka pointing at the floor. She was wearing her sunglasses.

Winston gripped the balcony rail and murmured, "Ohhh, that doesn't look good." He stepped back and put his arm over his eyes. The minions around him looked uneasy at his actions. Some stepped back too, some leaned forward trying to figure out what she was doing. One raised his crossbow to aim. Wesley snapped off a shot quickly skewering the vampire in the chest, and the now ownerless crossbow clattered down from the balcony to the lobby floor, followed by a miniature snow storm of ash.

The vampires in the lobby panicked. Some scrambled to get out of her direct line of fire. Others froze in fear. Some started to move towards Fred. All of them were doomed.

Fred smiled evilly at the vampires in the lobby, raised the bazooka up to take aim, and fired at the far wall. Angel and the men moved back into position as soon as she fired, covering their faces with their arms as the charge hit the wall with a surprisingly soft plopping sound. Then an incredibly bright flash overwhelmed the room's occupants. A shock wave pulsed out from the epicenter and knocked several of the blood suckers on their backsides. The few still on their feet stumbled around, a couple dropping to their knees. They all appeared, at least momentarily, stunned and blinded. The large lobby filled with the sounds of whimpers and sporadic cries of pain, fear, and confusion.

The vampires on the balcony appeared to be in better shape; some of them groped blindly, but none of them appeared stunned. Winston called out from the balcony over the confusion, "Hope you don't mind if I don't hang around for the party."

"Hope you don't mind if you do." Angel said smugly. Slayers crashed in through all the windows on the ground floor.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

To be continued…

Note: "Click."

Quote below is from "Heartthrob" (Episode 1 of Season 3 of Angel the Series)

Written and Directed by David Greenwalt

Original Air Date: 24 Sept. 2001

Setting for scene: Angel just arrived back from the sabbatical he went on after finding out about Buffy's death. He went to a monastery that turned out to be filled with evil demon monks (not a very restful experience). He goes up to Fred's room to let her know he's back (she hasn't really left it while he's been gone). Fred was a slave for five years in Pylea (the dimension that Lorne came from originally). She had just been rescued by the gang and returned to our dimension when Angel went away on his sabbatical. However, she was fairly crazy at this point in the storyline. He discovers she's covered her room's walls with writing just like the cave she lived in while in Pylea.

Angel: How are you?

Fred: Yeah. Good. Everything's pretty much like when you, you know, went away on your trip.

Angel: Sorry I left so suddenly. I just…

Fred: Hey, no, you had things you had to take care of. And it's not like I need a babysitter or… You're sticking around 'now', right?

Angel: Yeah, I am.

Fred: Oh (lets out a short laugh) good!

Angel: (reading writing on wall) Listen, listen, listen… What are you listening for?

Fred: The click. When it all comes together and makes sense. There's like a click in the brain and then you understand things again.

Angel: Oh. What happens if you run out of wall before you get the click?

Fred: I don't know.

Part of the Disclaimer from the Buffy Dialogue Database (source of transcription used for above quote): The characters of "Angel" and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", as well as all related materials, are tm (trademarks) and/or (copyright) of Twentieth Century Fox Television and related entities. No other claims are expressed or implied. This site is not affiliated with, or endorsed by, any of the aforementioned entities. No infringement is intended.

Author Note: Expect updates approximately every two weeks after this. I tried to email people when they had questions, but it was very difficult. So instead, I'm sharing my thanks here. I want to thank all the people who took the time to review my story. You folks make writing fun! Thanks to Shadow Faerie of Twilight, Cayt, White Rabbit, Mint Dragon, Shahid, Tariq, Silverwind 24, Lily of the Shadow, Midnightzstorm, and Lightning Bug. I apologize if I missed anybody.

White Rabbit: after you asked me about Cordelia, I considered putting her in the story. However, with all the parts I plan to put in the story already, I decided adding Cordelia would complicate things too much. However, I did get an idea from your suggestion and put that in the story. Thanks for the idea!

Silverwind: Always expect more Wes/Fred. I'm a big fan!

Tariq: You're right. The Faith sentences were too one sided. Something to watch for in the future. I'm trying to follow canon except where it interferes with the muse, so yes, Anya is dead. Thanks for the Wes Gunn friendship suggestion. I like it. Keep your eyes open and thanks for the critique!


	8. Counter and Parry

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Eight)**

**By Kith**

Fred smiled evilly at the vampires in the lobby and fired at the far wall. Angel and the men moved back into position as soon as she fired, covering their faces with their arms as the charge hit the wall with a surprisingly soft plopping sound. Then an incredibly bright flash overwhelmed the room's occupants. A shock wave pulsed out from the epicenter and knocked several of the blood suckers on their backsides. The few still on their feet stumbled around, a couple dropping to their knees. They all appeared, at least momentarily, stunned and blinded. The large lobby filled with the sounds of whimpers and sporadic cries of pain, fear, and confusion.

The vampires on the balcony appeared to be in better shape; some of them groped blindly, but none of them appeared stunned. Winston, called out from the balcony over the confusion, "Hope you don't mind if I don't hang around for the party."

"Hope you don't mind if you do." Angel called back smugly. Slayers crashed in through all the windows on the ground floor.

Angel had tried to stop Buffy from participating in the fight. She'd been seriously hurt during her fight with the first evil and its minions, the Turok-Han. But keeping her away from this fight was like trying to keep a moth from a flame. She simply couldn't walk away from a fight in which her friends were going to risk their lives. That was part of what made her special.

However, when she'd come to Angel's office to discuss the details of the plan, she also made it absolutely clear that regardless of Angel's friendship with Wes, she didn't trust Wesley. She especially didn't trust any plan even partly developed by Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. She just couldn't get past her mental image of Wesley from Sunnydale. No amount of discussion could change it.

Wesley had accidentally walked in just as she was saying, "I'm not trusting my friends to a man who screams like a girl and who might fold if things get too rough. I'm happy to help if you're having vampire problems, kinda in the job description, and I'm sorry about Wesley's brother, but if something happens to one of my people during this fight, Wesley will regret it."

She hadn't seen Wesley enter the room during her little speech, but Angel had. The two men's eyes met, Angel's apologetic and Wesley's mortified. Wesley paled, fisted the papers he was holding almost into a white-knuckled wad, and then abruptly turned and walked out. Angel almost called after him, but he decided that Wes had been humiliated enough and let him go.

Winston really didn't like how this operation was going. Down below in the lobby a whole swarm of slayers overwhelmed the tottering vampires still reeling from the bazooka attack. Cries of surprise and pain came from the incapacitated minions. Dust filled the air giving the room below a hazy, unreal facade into which his forces rapidly disappeared. Where had all the slayers come from? And they were definitely slayers. This was ludicrous. How had the rabbit gotten so many people to help him? Damn! How annoying for his plans to go so far awry. He spoke tersely into his walkie-talkie, "Three! This is One! Go now!"

Inside a long, large, oversized van, containing various computer panels and equipment, sat Giles and Willow watching a row of monitors displaying various parts of the Hyperion. Kennedy sat in the driver's seat with an axe on the dash and a loaded crossbow on the passenger seat as she watched for any signs of trouble from the outside. Giles watched a monitor closely and said, "He's talking on his walkie-talkie." Willow exclaimed softly and pointed at another monitor in particular. Giles leaned forward, his eyes narrowed at the sight before him. Willow remarked, "He must have switched channels on the radio because we're not hearing it now." Giles nodded and spoke into his earpiece, "Faith, go now."

In the basement a group of vampires, all armed with a variety of weaponry, stood in a line on the stairs leading to the lobby floor. At the head of the stairs, a large, well muscled vampire listened as Winston's voice ordered them into the fight. He grinned back at the others, "Let's go!"

The door leading to the sewers which was held in place by a piece of wood wedged against it, splintered and flew across the room in pieces. Several vampires at the bottom of the stairs screamed as they were assaulted by a hail of wooden chunks and one luckless, soulless minion disintegrated from a sliver of shrapnel.

Faith ran in and leaped up to the head of the stair just in front of the shocked muscleman. She quirked her head to the side and ran a hand lightly down his muscled chest, "You're not leavin' without saying goodbye are you now, baby?" She punched a stake through his heart and kicked the vamp behind him, now exposed through the ashy flakes. The vampires on the stairs tumbled down to the bottom in a jumble of arms and legs as five or six slayers poured in through the sewer doorway. Faith propped her hands on her waist as she surveyed the mop-up operations, "Oh well, I guess he didn't have any staying power."

Giles and Willow grinned at each other as the situations in the lobby and basement played out. Then Giles pressed the button on the earpiece again and directed Faith to stay put and watch for any other reinforcements. He and Willow smiled at each other again as they heard Faith reply dryly, "Party pooper."

Winston waited a couple of minutes, but when it became clear no reinforcements were coming, he assessed the situation as hopeless and backed up to one of the hotel room doors behind him. Below him, the combined group of young women and Wesley's team slashed, stabbed, and staked the last of Winston's lobby troops. Winston saw Wesley holding the reloaded crossbow in one hand, but ignoring it to behead a vampire by using a retractable sword extended from Wesley's sleeve device. For the first time, he felt fear as he watched his brother's deadly grace cut a swathe through the pack using simple economical movements. Admittedly, the vampires weren't up to usual fighting quality because of the 'bazooka' attack. However, Winston had the feeling it didn't matter. Wesley showed none of the clumsiness or uncertainty normally characteristic of his fighting skills. His face was grim and determined while he fought in the crowd. When...How had Wesley learned to fight?

Giles leaned forward again calmly and tapped the monitor showing the balcony and Willow nodded and smiled. He began to speak into the earpiece again.

Winston fumbled for the doorknob behind him and the vampires on the balcony with him prepared to follow. He turned and pushed open the door to discover a petite blonde girl wearing an earpiece with three girls stationed behind her, all holding stakes. Buffy smiled and quipped, "We want to invite you to dinner." She held up the sharpened stick and spoke cheerfully, "We're having stake." Winston stumbled back, shoving a lackey out of the way as the women charged.

Willow spoke into her earpiece, "Angel, the basement is cleared and Buffy is attacking on the balcony now. We don't see any other..."

Willow was interrupted by Kennedy's surprised exclamation as the woman in the front seat scrabbled for the crossbow, "Oh sh..." The glass crunched as a small round hole appeared and Kennedy jerked sideways as if she'd been punched. She slumped out of sight with a sigh.

Willow screamed, "Kennedy!" and started to rise as the back doors wrenched open and a figure thrust in an aerosol can and sprayed the young witch. Willow coughed and choked for air as she sagged to the floor. Giles covered his mouth and knocked the can out of the attacker's hand. He started to rise but another figure pushed past the first attacker and pointed a crossbow menacingly.

"Hallo, Rupert," the older man's crisply cultured British tone, impeccably decked out three piece suit, and old school tie seemed incongruously out of place with the fully loaded crossbow.

Giles crouched, frozen in place, and quickly reached up to his earpiece to tersely snap, "Buffy, we're under atta..." The older man smoothly reversed the crossbow and slammed it hard straight into Giles face.

Buffy gripped Winston's shirt and raised the stake. The vampire was dazed and battered after an amazingly short, vicious fight in which all his minions were killed. Buffy sing-song words slipped out, "Time for din-din," when she heard Willow and Giles' broken off transmissions. She pressed the earpiece and spoke frantically, "Giles! What did you say? Willow?"

Wesley was momentarily tempted to go upstairs and help Buffy deal with his brother as soon as it was clear the slayers in the lobby had the last of the vampires under control. However, he realized it would be over before he could get there as he saw the slayers upstairs efficiently buzz sawing their way through the vampires. He remembered Buffy's opinion of him and knew she wouldn't appreciate his presence. He saw Fred alone by the front doors watching the fight upstairs unfold and disliking her unprotected position, he moved towards her. He continued to watch the fight upstairs too and, by the time he stood at Fred's side, he felt a lurch in his throat as Buffy raised the stake.

The slayers in the lobby finished the vampires off and were catching their breath. Some started to move down the hotel hallways and others started up the stairs to begin to search the hotel for undead survivors. Angel's group started moved back to the front door to join Wesley and Fred in guarding the front in case more trouble was coming.

As they all heard Giles and Buffy's desperate conversation, most of the people looked up at Buffy as she spoke frantically over the radio. Angel looked up and then started running for the front door. Wesley jerked the front door open, saw what was coming, and then rammed into Fred pushing her onto the stairs just as the giant black van crashed through the doors and took the doorway frame with it, spewing rubble everywhere, and soared over the stairs down to the lobby area. It broke off the stairway rails on both sides throwing debris out onto the lobby floor. People threw themselves out of the way as the van took a hairpin turn sliding around and then coming to a stop with the side of the van facing the now completely shattered and much bigger front entrance.

Angel, with Gunn right behind him, had made it to the bottom of the stairs and was forced to leap to the side with the van's sudden arrival. He jumped back to his feet to face this new threat and found himself one of the few people on his feet in the room. He was relieved to see Gunn obviously more angry than hurt, although Gunn was sprawled on the ground like most of the people around them.

Wesley felt the van lightly brush his back as it rushed by, and he threw his hands out to either side of Fred to prevent crushing her. Hunks and bits of plaster from the wall hit his back and showered the stairway. Instantly pushing up with his arms while at the same time being careful not to press down on Fred, he was standing at almost the same time as Angel. He grabbed Fred's still loaded crossbow which had miraculously survived. His hadn't. It was crushed under the fractured frames of the now flattened doors. He pointed the weapon at the van.

The van's side door slid open exposing the interior's occupants. Three men in their 60's, all in suits and armed, stood in the oversized van. Buffy could see Willow stretched out alarmingly still on the floor of the van and Giles' head bled profusely with a slow steady trickle flowing down the side of his face and dripping onto his shirt. Although he appeared to be conscious, he couldn't seem to stand upright. If two of the men hadn't held him up roughly between them he probably would have fallen. One of the men used Giles' body as a shield and held a gun to Giles' head. The other pointed an Uzi machine gun out at the crowd of slayers, his threat clear. She could see a third in the driver's seat pointing another Uzi out the completely broken out front windshield and at people on the other side of the van. A fourth man held a crossbow pointed at Willow.

The man with the crossbow demanded loudly, "I have come for Pryce."

Fred, still struggling to stand upright, cried out, "Wesley? What do you want with Wesley?" Gunn stood up next to Angel, they glanced at each other, and then both men moved protectively in front of Wes. Wesley looked at them for a moment and then back at the man.

"Not him! What would I want with him?" The man waved his hand dismissively at Wesley, who lowered his eyes briefly.

The man pointed up at Winston, who grinned broadly, "He belongs to us. I am here to take him back to the council."

Some of the slayers started to push themselves off the ground. The men with the uzis fired a spray of bullets narrowly missing the moving women. The man with the crossbow yelled, "Stay down or die!" Everyone froze.

Buffy clutched Winston tightly keeping the stake raised threateningly. She called out, "If you hurt anyone, I'll kill him."

The man with the crossbow took aim at Willow, "Let him go now or they die!" The man with the pistol on Giles pressed the gun more firmly against the injured man's temple.

Buffy tightened her grip on Winston who didn't seem at all concerned as he smiled widely at her. She remember that irritatingly arrogant, self-important look from Sunnydale when a new and incompetent watcher was assigned to her and all she wanted to do at that time was wipe the floor with his face. That's all she wanted to do now. "How do I know you won't kill them anyway if I let him go?"

"Miss Summers, you are the Slayer and I am from the council." Buffy twitched at the name of the supposedly defunct organization that was nominally supposed to be on her side. The man continued, "Neither one of us normally go around hurting humans for no good reason. You give me what I want and I shall give you what you want." The older man propped up Giles' pale, bleeding face briefly allowing her a good look and then let it go.

His head dropped to his chest and then Giles forced his head back up as he cried out, "NO, Buffy! Don't do it!" The older man calmly backhanded Giles' face. Giles made a small noise and shook his head attempting to remain conscious.

The older man told the younger one, "Stiles, kill him." Stiles tightened his grip and nodded, cocking back the hammer on the pistol.

Buffy cried out, "NO!" and shoved Winston away from her.

The elder watcher waved the young gunman away from shooting Giles. He spoke imperiously, "Come down here at once, Winston. We must go back now."

Winston grasped the rail and laughed, "Let me think. No! You ridiculous old fool! You think I'm going back to your non-existent council?" Winston leaped over the balcony and shoved Gunn aside as he barreled out the door. Angel itched to slam a stake in the vampire as he went by, but worried that Giles would be dead before the dust reached the floor.

The older man's face grew red and tightened with rage. He looked at the group assembled and composed himself into a semblance of calm again, "That was unfortunate."

He glanced at Giles and continued as if nothing had happened, "This man has been an impossible thorn in my side once too often. I recommended his dismissal the day I was assigned as his advisor. He obviously had no respect for his family's heritage or his calling. Of course, I was right. He abandoned his duties as a young man not long afterwards. I couldn't believe it when they reinstated him after he returned to the council, overriding my well-reasoned protest, and despite his disgraceful behavior while away. Wild oats indeed! And imagine them assigning such a man to a slayer!" He looked up at Buffy, "No wonder your tenure has been such an unmitigated disaster. Falling in love with a vampire with your watcher's knowledge and approval! Your watcher interfering with the proper completion of your Cruciamentum. Quitting the council with the support of your, by then, fired watcher!"

"Quentin Travers allowed Rupert Giles to drag the council's reputation through the mud. The man's faults are legion. Giles' willingness to work with vampires, and," the man waved his arm to encompass all the women scattered on the floor, "now his use of potentials as if they are real slayers, and last but not least," the older man kicked at Willow who moaned softly, "his refusal to deal definitively with blatant threats to the world because of some misplaced sentimental claptrap are just a few of his numerous blunders. Such weakness cannot be tolerated in a watcher and so his fate is sealed. However, if you stop interfering with council business, I'll return the girl unharmed. After all, we can deal with such threats at a later time if they recur." The man started to reach for the sliding door.

Wesley moved past Angel and Gunn and towards the van with precise careful steps over the rubble, "You're not taking her anywhere," he aimed his crossbow straight at the crossbow holding older man, "and if you kill him, I'll kill you. And you know I won't miss." The elderly man who had been pointing his Uzi generically at the crowd quickly focused his attention and gun on Wesley. Angel and Gunn stepped up behind Wesley.

Up on the balcony, Buffy gripped the railing tightly. No matter how much she wanted to pound that smug face into paste, she was afraid if she jumped down now, the men would start firing and Giles, Willow, and many others would die. But she set herself to jump down and join in the fight if it started.

The older man raised his crossbow away from Willow to point it at Wesley, "_You_ would kill me! You'd die too."

Wesley raised one eyebrow, "When has that ever mattered, Father?" Angel and Gunn looked at each other in dismay and then back to the van's occupants.

A flicker of disbelief crossed the older man's face and he searched his son's face for the weakness he was sure he'd see. He saw none. Then Roger Wyndam-Pryce's face shifted into a grudging acknowledgement of Wesley's unwavering determination. Everyone stood still for a moment. Finally, the older Wyndam-Pryce jerked his head at his other two men and they shoved Giles and Willow out onto the floor and slammed the sliding door to the van shut.

Despite the size of the lobby, the van made it seem smaller as its engine revved loudly while it turned tightly in the space, causing young women throughout the room to scramble to avoid being hit and Angel's group to leap to each side as the van bounced up the stairs and sped out through the ruins of the front entrance, screeched onto the road, and roared off down the street.

To be continued....

Next chapter in about two weeks (barring flood, famine, and homework)

Thanks to my latest reviewers:

Pari106-thanks, I liked it best when they acted like a family so I'm trying to write it that way.

Westfan1234 (who has a really great Wes/Faith story ongoing by the way), I especially wanted to make the Wes/Fred relationship more believable. It always irritated me how they seemed to just throw it in in the end without any reasonable explanation for Fred's sudden feelings. More Faith and Giles coming for sure!

Allen Pitt-thanks for the reminder about Winston and the scar. Robin isn't a big part of this fic, however, he going to show up eventually.

White Rabbit- yes, I had to use the click! I did put in the dialogue from the show at the end for those who forgot because I did think it was a pretty obscure reference.

and last, but not least; Rose and Tariq!

Thanks everybody, it's great to know people like the story!


	9. Damage Control

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Nine)**

**By Kith**

The older man raised his crossbow away from Willow to point it at Wesley, "_You_ would kill me! You'd die too."

Wesley raised one eyebrow, "When has that ever mattered, Father?" Angel and Gunn looked at each other in dismay and then back to the van's occupants.

A flicker of disbelief crossed the older man's face and he searched his son's face for the weakness he was sure he'd see. He saw none. Then Roger Wyndam-Pryce's face shifted into a grudging acknowledgement of Wesley's unwavering determination. Everyone stood still for a moment. Finally, the older Wyndam-Pryce jerked his head at his other two men and they shoved Giles and Willow out onto the floor and slammed the sliding door to the van shut.

Despite the size of the lobby, the van made it seem smaller as its engine revved loudly while it turned tightly in the space, causing young women throughout the room to scramble to avoid being hit and Angel's group to leap to each side as the van bounced up the stairs and sped out through the ruins of the front entrance, screeched onto the road, and roared off down the street.

Buffy leaped down and knelt by Willow and Giles. Willow was unconscious and no amount of shaking would wake her, but her breathing was strong and regular. Wesley was checking Giles over and pressed a handkerchief against the cut on the man's forehead.

Buffy said worriedly, "How is he?"

Giles' voice was thick with pain, but clear, "_He_ is fine. However, _he_ has one bloody hell of a headache. Again. Why do they always insist on hitting me on the head?" He groaned as he attempted to sit up. Wesley assisted him and supported his back, as Giles raised a hand to his forehead holding the makeshift bandage in place and clearly tried to regain his wits. The injured man spoke haltingly, "Willow should be...alright. They just used some soporific spray to put her to sleep. I...recognized a brief whiff of the smell as they used it so I held my breath long enough for it to clear away." Giles gritted his teeth as the pain throbbed in some kind of increasing reverberating echo throughout his head, "It's very fast acting, but it dissipates just as fast, and it's perfectly harmless. She around in a few minutes."

Buffy sighed in relief and smiled. Giles continued grimly, "They dumped Kennedy outside. I'm not as sure about her condition."

Faith, who'd appeared suddenly with her group said, "I'm on it," and ran out followed by her team.

Giles slowly turned his head to look at Wesley, while obviously trying to avoid sudden movements, and then Giles said, "That was a damned stupid thing to do. I was sure he was going to kill you just from bloody-minded pigheadedness. He always was a single-minded bastard."

Wesley lowered his eyes briefly, but said nothing.

Giles looked up at Wesley from under the now reddened cloth and smiled his gratitude despite the obvious pain, "Thank you. That was bloody brilliant."

A small smile briefly came and went on Wesley's face and then he said seriously, "I'm sorry you were hurt trying to help me. I think we should probably get you to hospital."

Faith ran in. There was a little blood on her hands and shirt, "I think Kennedy's five-by-five. They used some kind of tranq gun. Her arm was bleeding like a stuck pig, but I think we got it stopped and she's breathing okay." Slayers followed Faith in; they carried their unconscious sister-in-arms carefully past the wreckage of the demolished opening and tenderly laid her on the couch.

Fred stepped up behind the group gathered around Giles with a cell phone in her hand, "Three ambulances are already on their way. They should be here in a couple of minutes to take you all to Wolfram and Hart's medical center."

Giles grimaced and Wesley said quickly, "We could take you to a regular hospital if you'd prefer, Giles. It's just that there won't be any difficult questions at Wolfram and Hart."

"No, no, I might as well go to the medical center. Besides, I'd like to see how Xander is doing. Although, with my luck, we'll be in beds right next to each other." He paused for a second, obviously considering his last statement. "Wait! Can I change my mind?" Giles looked around in consternation at the concerned but somewhat amused faces surrounding him.

"Nope," Buffy said firmly. "I want all my wounded Scoobies in one basket where I can keep an eye on them." She gently took over pressing the bandage to his head and he dropped his hand gratefully. She spoke brightly, "You'll just have to suffer the wonderfulness that is Xander."

Giles gave her a look that spoke of the many times he'd been forced to put up with Xander's questionable conversational skills. She grinned at him, just happy he was alive. He smiled back, winced briefly, and then smiled up at her again. He was pretty happy about being alive too.

Minutes later, paramedics pulling ambulance gurneys between them began efficiently bundling up their patients and taking them out to their respective ambulances.

Wesley's ribs stabbed sharply every time he moved. He really shouldn't have gotten involved in the melee. But like Buffy, he just couldn't stand by while others risked their lives in what was essentially his fight. Making slow careful movements, Wesley gathered up his crossbow and started to move out towards the shattered remains of the front of the hotel when Buffy grabbed his arm. He looked warily at her, "I am sorry about Giles, Buffy. I would never have allowed Angel to ask for your help if I'd realized..."

Buffy interrupted the former watcher, "You are unbelievable!" Wesley tensed in preparation for the verbal attack he saw coming. "How did a man as good as you, come from as big a sleeze as that? And I thought my Dad was useless! At least he had the good taste to stay out of my way. And that brother of yours! Reminds me a lot of that whole incompetent Spike-a-rama we had before Spike joined the good side of the force."

Buffy stopped to think for a minute. Wesley just looked at her dumbfounded. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "If you guys sicced Harmony on him, he'd probably turn himself in for staking. She's mostly dangerous to the side she's on." Wesley and Buffy shared a small smile of understanding at that. Her voice grew deadly serious, "You just let us know when round two comes up. If we're still around, I'd love a rematch."

Wesley sputtered, "O-Okay."

Buffy smiled and gently squeezed his arm, "Giles was right by the way, that was totally of the brilliant." She walked away, a gaggle of slayers following. Several of the slayers smiled at him as they passed. Faith grinned and punched at Wesley's arm as she walked by. Wesley frowned and rubbed his arm absently. He was definitely getting a bruise there. Then he grinned widely, slung the crossbow casually over his shoulder, and trailed the crowd.

Angel stood with his hands on his waist looking with dismay at the huge hole that was formerly the front entrance. Gunn, standing behind him and hanging onto his axe with both hands as it lay over his shoulders, casually surveyed the entire lobby with broken glass strew across the floor from all the windows and then back to the rubble leading to the shattered front and commented, "Now _that's_ gonna cost to fix."

Angel looked back at Gunn and heaved a sigh, "I'm thinking evil lawyer money myself."

They both looked again at the gaping hole.

Dave had parked in a darkened alley beyond normal human visual range of the hotel. Of course, he wasn't human anymore. He was acting as 'Two' on the radio for tonight's little ambush. He had the receiver beeping away merrily on the seat beside him indicating the tracer was close by. The tracer was hidden in the walkie-talkie they'd left for the Dummy-Do-Rights to find. He hadn't really needed it. By the time the tracer started beeping, indicating their approach, they were in plain sight (from his angle anyway) and obviously gearing up to go inside. He said the prearranged codeword 'firefly' which warned his sire about mouse and company, so Winston had told everybody to 'switch' which meant to change to another frequency on the radio. So far, so good; but things seemed to go sour after that.

Dave saw the attack on the van and the van's subsequent careening crash through the front of the hotel. Based on the radio transmissions Dave overheard, things were not going well at all. No one was answering his call. He pulled up to the front of the Hyperion in the stolen silver viper GTSR he had acquired for tonight's operation. The wealthy owner wouldn't be reporting it missing any time soon. The guy was a little past worrying about his car. Anyway, a great car like this was really wasted on an ugly moron like that. Hmmm, Dave really enjoyed rich food.

He supposed he should have gotten something a little more inconspicuous for the job, but he worked like a dog to scrape together the payments for that piece of junk second-hand Escort when he was alive and damned if he was going to be caught dead in another cheap car. Or maybe he should say undead. He grinned.

Winston ran out of the ragged front entrance at full speed and flung himself into the passenger seat. Dave smiled in pleasure at the opportunity to put the car through its paces as he revved up the engine and squealed away. Winston spoke over the powerful engine, "Thought I was going to be staked there for a minute. But my idiot of a father showed up and convinced them to let me go. He actually thought I would go with him! Ludicrous old man!" Winston chewed his lip as he looked contemplatively out the window. Nonetheless, I learned a valuable lesson tonight. My brother is a lot more dangerous than I gave him credit for. I greatly underestimated Wesley. I won't make that mistake again." Winston looked over at Dave again, "It was an expensive lesson. We lost a lot of people. But it was worth it. After all, they were expendable." He smiled expansively at Dave and then looked out the window with relish, enjoying the car's power and speed.

Dave smiled back at his sire, but inwardly he was seething. He was tired of all the time, effort, and resources wasted on this useless brother of Winston's. All those people were expendable? Dave was beginning to suspect that he too was expendable in his sire's eyes. The vampire looked speculatively at his sire. Dave was thinking that with a little judicious quiet conversation with some of the remaining 'expendables' he could show his sire just who was expendable and who wasn't. Dave was starting to think that mouse would make a great minion—_for Dave_. Nothing would please Dave better than to have the face that was starting to grate on his nerves following his every order, instead of the other way around. Yep, that would be fine indeedy. Of course, that meant his sire would have to go. Dave grinned again. Two for the _Pryce_ of one. How he loved being a vampire!

Angel arrived at Wolfram and Hart and went to his office briefly to drop off his weapons. He wanted to get down quickly to Buffy and the rest in the Medical section and make sure everyone was okay. He set the bloodied sword and a couple of back-up daggers down on his desk for later cleaning and turned to leave, but found Danvers, the security team leader standing in his way.

"How'd it go? Heard you had a few problems." The man looked and sounded smug, "Probably could have used a little help."

Angel was irritated by this pompous prig. He was about to push past angrily without bothering to reply when he suddenly got a whiff of something unexpected. He grabbed the man's throat and slammed him against the wall, holding the man a foot off the ground. "You want to tell me why I smell old watcher guy all over you? The same watcher that somehow knew where we were? What our plan was? And that Winston would be there?"

The man choked, his eyes bugged out in fear, unable to reply because of the steely hand gripping his throat. His pants developed a wet stain in the front and liquid dripped down his legs and the wall to soak the carpet below.

Angel looked down at the carpet in dismay, "Do you know how hard it is to get urine out of a carpet? Now I'm going to be smelling useless security team leader and Fabreeze for weeks." He leaned forward until he was only an inch from the gasping man's frightened face, "I wonder if the smell of blood would cover it up? Wanna find out?"

They looked at each other for a second when a second smell wafted up to Angel's nose. He wrinkled his face in disgust, looked down briefly, and then looked back up, really annoyed now, "You know, I've tortured people for hours that had more control than you."

Giles was nicely settled, grousing good naturedly the entire time as his fears of being bedded next to Xander turned out to be true. Xander was in fine form. His _two_ eyes shone brightly as he babbled happily about his new eye and made terrible jokes about his now defunct eye patch. The unneeded eye patch lay carelessly abandoned on the nightstand beside his bed. Dawn stood at his bedside with her hand on his shoulder and laughed at every joke. Everyone else was gathered around smiling broadly. Even a drowsy, pain-medicated Giles smiled at the sight of his young friend's two working eyes. Buffy sat contentedly between the two men, looking back and forth in simple amusement.

In the same room, but beyond a drawn screen to give them some privacy, Willow sat next to a bed, tightly holding the hand of the now awake Kennedy. Kennedy's left arm was swathed in white bandages and a couple of band-aids covered cuts on her face. Like Xander, Willow's eyes shone brightly too, but with grateful tears that showed how she felt. Kennedy, understanding the similarity of the attack on her to the attack on Willow's murdered love Tara, just hung on reassuringly and quietly let Willow work through her feelings.

Wesley and Fred stood along the wall next to the door at the back of the crowd of people. Wesley wrapped one arm surreptitiously around his overworked and continuously aching ribs while leaning back against the wall. He then quietly asked, "Where did they get the eye, Fred?"

She leaned towards him, causing him to feel a momentary catch in his throat making it impossible to breathe because of the swelling of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to control his reaction so she wouldn't see it. He'd been embarrassed enough lately by his clearly unreciprocated feelings.

She spoke softly, her breath against his throat sending concurrent tiny shock waves through his beleaguered system, "We got an unclaimed body from the morgue. Apparently, Wolfram and Hart can use cadaver parts; they just don't like to because it costs more. Imagine bean counting on somethin' like this!"

She moved away slightly in her indignation over Wolfram and Hart's evil practices. He wasn't sure whether he was more disappointed that she was no longer close enough to cause this electrifying effect or glad he could breathe again. Of course, his ribs protested at the reestablishment of lung activity.

She said sadly, "The city was going to bury him as a John Doe. We're going to cremate him and give him a nice burial. We're also trying to identify the man in order to notify his relatives of his death. We owe him that at least."

Wesley winced slightly as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position. Fred eyed him appraisingly, "You're in pain." Then her voice rose anxiously, "Did you get hurt in the fight?" The others in the room looked around at her words.

He tried to stand straighter and lowered his arm, "I'm fine." He looked around the room of concerned eyes that pinned him to the wall, uncomfortably making him the center of attention, "Really."

Faith moved over to the two of them and crossed her arms stubbornly, "You gonna give me some more of that 'took some work home' crap? You look like the Leaning Tower of Pizza."

He smiled despite the regular throbbing ache in his ribs, "That's 'Pisa,' Faith, not Pizza. It's a town in Italy. It's called the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"Yeah, whatever. Although, I'm thinking, _Italy_—pizza makes more sense." Faith's eyes twinkled a little and then she grew serious again, "Anyway, you look terrible."

Wesley smiled at her concern, "I'm alright, Faith. Honestly."

"It's your ribs, isn't it?" Fred's surprisingly accurate input startled Wesley. She continued worriedly, "Did you get hit?" She reached over unexpectedly to gently but firmly feel his side. He jerked away at the unforeseen touch that set his heart to pounding. But the suddenness of his action sent an intense pain stabbing into his side from his damaged ribs and he involuntarily grimaced and grabbed at his side again.

Faith said sharply, "That's it." She took his arm supporting him, ignoring his protests, and practically dragged him to an adjoining room. She sat him down on an examining room table. He tried to get up and she pushed him down again carefully avoiding his ribs, "Sit down, ya' big liar." She frowned with displeasure as she repeated with disgust what he'd just said to her (with embellishment), "'Honestly,' my ass!"

Fred, looking grim, said, "You keep him here. If he tries to move again, hit him." The next thing Wesley knew, Fred had roped the same doctor who'd seen him before into examining him again. The man was much gentler this time and obviously nervous of the two women who, despite their misleadingly slight appearances, stood with perfectly believable menace on either side of the doctor.

However, after some inevitable x-rays, the doctor agreed with Wesley's finally admitted assessment. He'd just overworked his damaged ribs. After some mild scolding about taking it easy, Wesley meekly took the two pain pills and drank from the paper cup the nurse handed him under the unnerving eagle eyes of the two dark haired women. He hadn't felt like this since his nanny had caught him finishing off an entire tin of biscuits in the kitchen when he was four and then efficiently, but unsympathetically, dealt with the inevitable tummy ache he'd experienced later for what seemed like an eternity afterwards.

He was sent to bed without his supper this time too.

To be continued.....

Author's Note: I've been disgustingly sick for the past week and a half. However, I said I'd put this chapter up and so I did. Hope you guys like it. Next chapter will be the bestest so far! Promise! Two weeks.

As always, thank to everyone who reviewed last time: Tariq (there will be darkness, promise), Wesfan1234 (shooting's too good for him, I have much better plans, Mwahahaha), pari106 (did you see the light?), WhiteRabbit (Thanks!), Mint Dragon (More Wes/Fred--promise). You folks make it worth posting when I feel this sick. You guys absolutely rock!


	10. Sticks and Stones

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Ten)**

**By Kith**

**Rating:** PG-13 (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Fred, looking grim, said, "You keep him here. If he tries to move again, hit him." The next thing Wesley knew, Fred had roped the same doctor who'd seen him before into examining him again. The man was much gentler this time and obviously nervous of the two women who, despite their misleadingly slight appearances, stood with perfectly believable menace on either side of the doctor.

However, after some inevitable x-rays, the doctor agreed with Wesley's finally admitted assessment. He'd just overworked his damaged ribs. After some mild scolding about taking it easy, Wesley meekly took the two pain pills and drank from the paper cup the nurse handed him under the unnerving eagle eyes of the two dark haired women. He hadn't felt like this since his nanny had caught him finishing off an entire tin of biscuits in the kitchen when he was four and then efficiently, but unsympathetically, dealt with the inevitable tummy ache he'd experienced later for what seemed like an eternity afterwards.

He was sent to bed without his supper this time too.

The next day, the remaining casualties from the collapse of Sunnydale were released from the hospital outside of L.A. and transported to the city. They were the ones that had been too injured to travel with the rest of the group. Some moved into a local hospital and some moved into slayer central, the hotel where the slayers who'd arrived earlier were staying. All of them were doing well. All the Sunnydale people in the Wolfram and Hart clinic were released that day too. Giles insisted on being released to supervise the new arrivals and get them settled in properly. Willow was actually given a clean bill of health and released after getting checked out by the medical staff on the night of the Hyperion attack. But she didn't leave until Kennedy was released on the next day. Xander cheerfully went with Giles on babysitter duty after his eye was given the medical seal of approval and pronounced ready for public viewing.

Angel's group went to their various departments and dealt with the numerous tasks associated with running a large supposedly no-longer-evil law firm.

"This is the room, Gunn." Wesley unlocked the door, opened it, and stood aside to let the taller man by.

Gunn gaped at the shelves of tapes filling the tiny room, "Damn! Those were busy evil peeping toms!"

"Yes, well, the Special Projects branch was meticulous, if nothing else," Wesley commented somewhat sadly.

Gunn looked back at the Englishman, aware that Wesley was thinking of Lilah, the dead ex-head of Special Projects and Wesley's...what was she anyway? Girlfriend? Mistress? Lover? Manipulator? Maybe she was just Wesley's only connection to humanity at the time. Sad to think that Wesley's only lifeline for months was an evil bitch working for Wolfram and Hart. But Gunn thought surprisingly that she'd appeared to actually care and Wesley had obviously cared too. He supposed that loneliness makes strange bedfellows.

Wesley looked at Gunn and then looked away as Wesley grew uncomfortable with the openly assessing look coming from the other man. "Right then," Wesley walked in and placed his hand on a device resting on the workbench, "this is the demagnetizer. All you have to do is place the tape here," Wesley pointed, "and turn on the switch here for a few seconds. If you want to check any of the tapes, the player is here. If you want to go back to the bonfire idea, I checked into it and there's a furnace down in the basement. It would probably be quicker considering the large number of tapes. The furnace actually has a viewing window and is capable of reducing a body to ash. In fact, I'm fairly certain that was how it was used in the past by the previous management. You'd have to load the tapes onto a cart and it takes a little time to fire up. But otherwise, it's ready to go."

Gunn moved to the tapes and picked one up, "Yeah, I like the idea of fire. Sounds more permanent."

Wesley moved back to the door and said, "I'll get one of the custodians to fire up the furnace and gather up a cart for you, shall I?"

Gunn said suddenly, "You're just doing this for her, aren't you?"

Wesley replied steadily, "We all deserve our privacy, Gunn. You, her, me, all of us. Sometimes, that's all we have left." Then Wesley left.

Gunn hit the tape against his palm while he thought, then he spoke aloud to the empty room, "Yeah, sometimes that _is_ all you have left." He surveyed the seemingly endless stacks of tapes. Speaking out loud to the empty room, "Now, do I look at some of these puppies before I destroy them or not?" The room didn't answer. The only sound in the room was the tape hitting Gunn's palm over and over in a kind of Morse code message Gunn couldn't decipher.

After helping Gunn, Wesley called the realtor agency again. Once again, all he got was an answering machine. He had intended to visit them yesterday, but got caught up in the preparations for the assault on the Hyperion. He would visit today. As he replaced the receiver, the intercom line on the phone buzzed immediately from the reception desk. He picked it up, "Yes, Harmony."

"Hey, Wesley, you've got some visitors out here," Harmony's voice sounded nervous.

"Who is it? I don't have any appointments today," Wesley was exasperated. Why couldn't the woman set up an appointment like she was supposed to?

"Um, I think you're going to want to talk to these folks. It's your dad and sister. And...uh...Angel's already out here."

As he hung up the phone, Wesley though he could hear Angel shouting in the background on the line.

Wesley ran down the hallway towards the increasing volume of Angel's angry voice speaking in the reception area, "You've got a lot of gall, coming here like this."

As Wesley arrived in the large reception area, he saw his father, his sister, and Angel. His father was dressed in a conservative three piece suit similar to the one he'd worn yesterday during the attack, but this time he fit the setting perfectly. With his neatly trimmed beard, distinguished mix of grey and black hair, and precise orotund accent, it was easy to imagine he was a prestigious member of the bar. He was silently pleased that his sister looked well, especially considering the nearly uniform destruction of the council. His sister Mary was around forty now and was as conservatively dressed as her father in a dark knee length skirt and jacket over a simple white blouse. Her blonde hair was neatly put up in a simple bun. She stood slightly back from her father and although she didn't say anything, she fidgeted worriedly while she watched her father speak.

Angel's entire stance conveyed barely restrained anger. In fact, he looked like he was about to pounce. On the other hand, Wesley's father appeared perfectly calm. Wesley knew his father's outward appearance of composure could be deceiving. In any case, Roger Wyndam-Pryce didn't seem concerned by Angel's aggressive attitude as he rejoined with smooth authority, "I have come to ensure we don't have a repeat of last night's events. It is in both our interests to avoid further conflict."

"Fine, you leave L.A. and never come back and there won't be any more conflicts," Angel's voice took on a deceptively quiet and dangerous tone. "And by the way, I threw Danvers out on his ear. Don't think to come sniffing around for information from my people again.

"Actually, he was quite forthcoming," the senior Wyndam-Pryce said haughtily. I simply came to _this _place," he said in disgust, "looking for my son, and Danvers quite happily told me where Wesley was and acquainted me with the details of your plans, such as they were. You may think _these_ are your _people_," he waved his arm encompassing the room (but implying Wolfram and Hart as a whole), "but I assure you, they are leading you by the nose."

Wesley decided it was time for him to step in, "Why are you here, Father? Winston isn't here and we don't know where he is. If we did, we wouldn't tell you."

Wesley's father looked at Wesley briefly, then dismissed him and focused on Angel, "This is the council's business. We will take care of it."

"Funny," Angel said sarcastically, "Hadn't you heard? The council got blown up. Didn't you get the memo?" Angel crossed his arms impatiently, "Maybe you were too busy attacking people who know what they're doing."

Wesley's father spoke stiffly, "The council still exists. As long as there are families," his eyes flicked disdainfully towards Wesley briefly, "dedicated to the cause, the council will prevail. Those of us left, consisting mostly of the retired and inactive watchers, are reconstituting the council. We'll presently have the legal morass left by the destruction of the council's major headquarters' sites sorted. Quite soon we'll be in charge of the surviving facilities and resources. It's merely a matter of time." He then looked with irritation at Wesley who shifted uneasily at the conversation, "Why can't you ever stand still, boy?"

Wesley clenched his fists, shifted again, and then crossed his arms like Angel. "Winston said something odd, Father." Wesley tilted his head inquiringly, "Winston said he has a soul. You wouldn't have anything to do with that would you?"

Fred stood watching the group below from the walkway overlooking the reception area. The heartlessness of Wesley's father towards Wesley was clear. What was it that Wesley had said?

'_I can live without love. I've done it all my life.'_

She had spent five years as a slave in Pylea and the lack of meaningful contact and personal degradation had nearly driven her crazy. But at least she had grown up in a loving family. She always knew someone somewhere loved her—even if it was in another dimension.

What was it like for Wesley growing up in that cold, loveless home?

'_I once told Angel a father doesn't have to be possessed by a demon to terrorize his children. I'm living proof.'_

Wesley was a survivor just like Fred. He'd endured the unendurable and then gotten on with his life. But, just like her, it left him with scars.

'_It's hard for me to share my feelings, Fred. I learned early on the high price of exposing my feelings to others.'_

Exactly how long had Wesley felt...something...for Fred? Did his childhood experiences stop him from saying something sooner? Was that why he was so sure she couldn't feel anything for him?

She'd always assumed he wasn't interested. The way he'd pulled away when she'd tried to touch his cheek after that whole debacle with Billy, how awkwardly he'd hugged her when she was going to leave with her parents, and the way he'd so desperately contradicted those puzzle demons when they assumed she was his girlfriend. But maybe he'd been too interested instead. Maybe he cared too much and with the barriers he was forced to develop in his childhood, he had pushed her and the too strong feelings away. Of course, she'd been in the death throes of her juvenile crush on Angel at the time. That probably didn't help.

Things reached a crisis between Wesley and Fred during the period when they'd taken Angel's soul away in order to question Angelus about the beast. Angelus had gleefully revealed everyone's secrets and one of them was that Wesley had some kind of crush on Fred. After the disclosure, Wesley'd kissed her with a desperation that had almost convinced her of its genuineness. But finding out about Lilah immediately afterwards had shocked her to her core and forced her to withdraw into her shell again.

On the rooftop, their heated discussion exposed Wesley's emotions more clearly. He was in pain when he said he knew she didn't love him. Didn't that imply that he loved her? That was certainly what she'd assumed up on the roof. His emotions must run very deep for him to practically admit something so obviously embarrassing to the normally reserved Englishman.

She brought her attention back to the conversation taking place below her. Suddenly she saw something completely unexpected. Her attention focused intently on two of the people down below. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of the pattern exposed by her rare talent for obscure puzzles. She smiled a little. Well, at least this would give her something to talk to Wesley about.

"_You_ are the last person I need to defend my actions to," Mr. Wyndam-Pryce Sr. took an intimidating step towards Wesley.

Wesley didn't move an inch, "That rather implies that there is something you need to defend, doesn't it?"

Wesley's father said coldly, "Bad things happen, boy. All one can do is try to make the best of a bad situation."

Wesley said just as coldly, "I assume Winston was killed by vampires and, rather than lose a valuable resource, you used the gypsy curse on him, didn't you, Father?"

Wesley's father looked at Angel pointedly and then back at Wesley, "Something like that. I would have thought you would approve. Isn't the soul supposed to make all the difference. Although," Wesley's father looked at Harmony, "perhaps you aren't as particular anymore. Isn't your allegiance to this organization proof of the inevitability of your downward slide?"

Wesley uncrossed his arms, leaned forward, and said hotly, "My allegiance is to Angel. Not this organization." Angel was pleasantly surprised at the words, but the next ones had him looking at Wesley thoughtfully.

"I support Angel because he's where the fight is, he's fighting for good and as long as he is, I'm staying here to help. But I know where my duty lies and I will do that duty no matter who I have to fight—even you. Even Angel. And certainly Wolfram and Hart. I would be in this fight if I were the last man on earth in an Armageddon. I finally grasped that last year." Wesley stopped suddenly, knowing he'd said more than he wanted to in the heat of the moment.

Wesley's father sounded amused, but there was a deadly undertone to his words, "Ah yes, last year. I heard about that. I didn't know vampires went in for pillow fights." His eyes met Angel's and Angel looked away in shame. It angered Angel to feel shame for anything the elder Wyndam-Pryce might say, but the uncontrollable anger he'd felt at Wesley that night shamed him more. But he couldn't change it and at least Wesley was still alive—however changed last year's experiences had left him—had left them all.

Wesley didn't look back at Angel though when he simply said, "I deserved it, Father." His words grew more heated, "He had a much better reason for his actions than you did for yours when we were children." Wesley paused and tried to gather his composure.

Wesley's father seemed to finally lose his as he yelled, "That _thing_ tried to kill you and you defend it! And you crawled on your belly to get back into its good graces! It was at the bottom of the ocean and you dredged it up, patted it dry, and sent it back home so it could ignore you some more until it needed you again! I knew you were useless when you were born, but this is beyond my wildest nightmares."

Wesley looked away, stone faced, while his father screamed at him. When his father finished, the older man's chest heaving and face red, Wesley looked at him calmly, "I've always known your opinion of me, Father. I think we'll both agree that each of us represents nightmarish aspects to the other. But the issue here is Winston. You've damned him! How could you do it? If you believe so absolutely that Angel is terrible, why would you consign Winston to the same fate? How could you possibly not know what would happen? You know what our childhood was like. Unlike Angel who seeks redemption, Winston is released from all the repression of our upbringing and finally free from you dictatorial control. He's corrupted his soul to obtain power. Every death he's caused lies at the feet of your insatiable need to keep him under your thumb—even beyond death!

Enraged, Wesley's father struck Wesley across the face heavily. Wesley's face was forced sideways and he staggered slightly. Angel took a step forward angrily but stopped as Wesley's hand held him back.

Wesley caught his balance, held his other hand against his darkly reddened cheek, and looked at his father calmly, "You should have let him rest-in-peace." Wesley took a step forward, his face displaying a dangerous predatory calm his father had never seen. Roger Wyndam-Pryce, for the first time in his life, involuntarily backed up a step from his son. He had thought he knew his son—but he had never met this man. This man had death in his eyes.

"Winston has attacked my friends and me. I'm going to clean up your mess for you, Father. I'm going to kill him. Now get out."

Behind the older man, a young woman's cold voice spoke out, "You heard him. Get out. Only the fact that you're Wesley's father is letting you leave in one piece. But it won't last forever. Tick, Tock..._Dad_."

Wesley's father was almost afraid to turn, his son's deadly gaze seemed to pin him in place, but he forced himself to turn and see Buffy Summers, her arms crossed defiantly, at the head of a group of young girls. All of them were very angry.

He muttered, "Come, Mary. We have work to do." Mary looked back at her brother and then the two moved to the elevator. Mary pushed the button.

"By the way old man, the reason we all act like slayers is because we all _are slayers._" Both Mary and her father looked astounded at this statement. Buffy continued, "And if you think any of us will ever follow your orders...well, let's just put it this way. We destroyed the First, the Bringers, and the evil uber-vamps. I'm thinking destroying evil groups is our forte and all the _good _watchers are already on our side."

Buffy strode aggressively right up to the older Wyndam-Pryce and spoke fiercely, "You just try to give me an order. You won't like where I stick it."

The man was beside himself with rage, but he turned immediately towards the doors, anxious to get on the elevator when it dinged. The doors opened, Faith stood there casually and calmly slammed her fist into Roger Wyndam-Pryce's face. The surprised man cried out in pain clutching at his face as blood dripped through his fingers. His daughter supported his frame as he staggered slightly and moaned.

Faith traipsed unconcernedly by the pair of watchers and said to Buffy as she passed, "Hey B." She walked over to an astonished Wesley, patted his arm, and said, "And the psychiatrist said I didn't know how to direct my anger." She continued down the hallway out of sight. Several of the slayers in the group tittered.

Buffy watched Faith enviously and said under her breath, "Now why didn't I think of that." She looked back serenely at the two watchers and met Mary's gaze. Mary said firmly, "Come, Father. I think we've outstayed our welcome." She moved him into the elevator, pushed the button, and the doors slowly slide shut.

To be continued...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Pari 106, Wesfan1234, White Rabbit (yes, I am better, thanks!), Tariq (actually, I thought the Danver's scene was pretty good Dark Avenger stuff (although I know it was short). Sorry there really isn't much more in this one. However, next chapter has more Angel and I will keep it in mind for some stuff coming up soon (I promise)), Elizabeth 5 (Yea! New reviewer! If you like Fresley, wait until you see next chapter!).

Thanks everybody!


	11. The Pleasant Side of Pain

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Eleven)**

**By Kith**

**Rating:** PG-13 (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

The man was beside himself with rage, but he turned immediately towards the doors, anxious to get on the elevator when it dinged. The doors opened, Faith stood there casually and calmly slammed her fist into Roger Wyndam-Pryce's face. The surprised man cried out in pain clutching at his face as blood dripped through his fingers. His daughter supported his frame as he staggered slightly and moaned.

Faith traipsed unconcernedly by the pair of watchers and said to Buffy as she passed, "Hey B." She walked over to an astonished Wesley, patted his arm, and said, "And the psychiatrist said I didn't know how to direct my anger." She continued down the hallway out of sight. Several of the slayers in the group tittered.

Buffy watched Faith enviously and said under her breath, "Now why didn't I think of that." She looked back serenely at the two watchers and met Mary's gaze. Mary said firmly, "Come, Father. I think we've outstayed our welcome." She moved him into the elevator, pushed the button, and the doors slowly slide shut.

In her hotel room, Willow sat on the floor in front of a map once again. Kennedy lay on the bed leaning on one arm with her other arm in a sling, and watched the powerful witch cast a locator spell. As the reddish sand whipped away in a swirl of wind, Willow looked eagerly on the map for Winston's location. But all the sand was gone. The spell had failed. Willow leaned back on her hands and looked at Kennedy with the disappointment clear on her face. "Drats! He must have some kind of block," Willow sighed, "I wonder if I could curse him with hives or something.

Kennedy smiled, "You might get the wrong Wyndam-Pryce."

Willow smiled wryly back, "Yeah, I suppose I might." She looked at the map and then back at Kennedy with a sudden thought, "Do you suppose Wesley's father has a block?"

Both women smiled mischievously at each other.

Gunn stood in front of the furnace. He picked up the last of the videotapes and CDs on the cart and threw them into the miniature inferno. He shuffled the products around with a special metal rake to ensure they were all captured by the flames. Then, using the tool to slam closed the thick iron door, he watched through the small window as the last memories of the Hyperion were eaten up by the flames.

Wesley sat at his desk after the interesting events in the reception area. He was still bemused by Buffy's and especially Faith's actions. He didn't really want his father hurt, but the man's complete disregard for everyone's safety at the Hyperion and then having the utter audacity to show up here to make demands, was like playing Russian roulette with five bullets in the chambers. His father was probably lucky Giles wasn't here today. Wesley thought Giles would have gladly provided the sixth bullet—and fired it too.

His cheek hurt. Damn it! Didn't he have enough people bashing up his body without his father joining in? He was starting to look like a poster child for domestic violence. He supposed he should ice it, but he'd practically have to take an ice bath to reach every bruise on his body.

Winston's walkie-talkie lay on the desk in front of him. He'd wondered about it ever since the events at the Hyperion. Exactly how had Winston known they were there? He could have had someone discretely stashed observing the entrance. In fact, that was the likely answer. However, what was 'firefly' and what did 'switch' mean? After his conversation with Willow last night, Wesley suspected it had something to do with the radio. He picked up a screwdriver and started to take it apart.

Fred stood outside Wesley's office. She took a deep breath, turned the knob and entered. Wesley was working on a piece of equipment at his desk. He looked up warily as she walked in. Fred said quietly, "Hi, Wesley."

He sighed, and shoved the radio parts away from him. "Can I help you, Fred?"

Fred thought she was ready for this conversation, but she wasn't. So she asked something different, "What did your sister say to you?"

He looked startled and then his face closed off into a mask, "What do you mean?"

Fred smiled slightly, "I was watchin' both of you. All that fidgeting and stuff. There was a pattern to it all. I couldn't decipher what you were sayin' and all, I mean, I could if I saw enough of it I suppose, but just seein' a few minutes of it wasn't enough to know more than you all were talking."

Wesley put his elbow on the desk and propped up his chin with his fist, "You were watching? I should have known you'd recognize it for what it was. I might have thought twice about doing it if I'd known you were there." He deliberated for a second and then said, "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Course not," she said indignantly. "I wouldn't tell anybody something like that."

Wesley sat back and interlaced his fingers, "I didn't think you would. You do realize you're the first person to figure it out?"

"Really?" Fred was surprised. "I thought the repeating patterns were pretty obvious once you took in to account the whole kinesic realm and eliminated adaptors."

Wesley laughed despite himself, "Only to you, Fred. Only to you. Do you want me to tell you about it?"

Fred promptly sat down and leaned forward in eager curiosity.

Wesley said reflectively, "Well, it started when we were children. As you may have gathered, father was extremely strict. Sometimes Mary or I would know something that would help keep the other out of trouble, but it was difficult to share such information with father breathing down our necks. While reading about various forms of communication, I discovered an obscure reference to the now extinct Kalik demon whose sole form of communication was an equally extinct body language. I tried to learn more about it but there really wasn't any more information available. But it did give me an idea."

Fred said excitedly, "You created your own body language."

Wesley smiled, "Quite right. I talked to Mary and together we developed signals so we could talk under father's very nose. Over time, the language became extraordinarily sophisticated. Of course, father often complained that we couldn't seem to stand still. That alone got us in trouble numerous times. However, it was worth it to have something beyond father's control. Anyway, it couldn't hurt his opinion of me or Mary in any way."

Fred asked, "How old were both of you when you made up the language?"

Wesley considered for a moment, "Hmm, I must have been seven or so. That would make Mary fourteen or fifteen."

"So, what did she say today?" Fred queried.

Wesley replied, "She said she was coming back later tonight, alone. She wants to talk to me. It should prove interesting to discover father's plans from one of _his_ _people._"

"You think she'll tell you what he's going to do? Fred asked.

"I think she'll tell me what she knows. Whether he's bothered to share his plans with her is another story," Wesley absently rubbed his now purpling bruise on his cheek.

Fred changed the subject again, "You knew Winston had a soul before we went to the Hyperion, didn't you?"

Wesley spoke abruptly, "Yes. He said something about it when he attacked me at my apartment and later, Angel confirmed it."

Fred said softly, "It must be hard dealing with all this?"

Wesley was brusque, "Look, Fred, thank you for your concern, but I'm all right." He looked down at the radio and said, "I've really got a lot to do. So, I'll see you later, shall I?"

Fred finally got up the courage to say what she had come there to say, "I'd like to finish the conversation we had on the roof."

Wesley's tightened his jaw in anger, "I told you that conversation was over."

"No!" Fred cried, "You said you didn't have anything else to say. But I do!"

Wesley got up and moved to the window. She couldn't see his face, but his back was stiff with tension, "Fine. Say what you have to say and then leave me alone."

She moved over to the window and put her hand hesitantly on his back. His muscles twitched involuntarily at the touch, but he didn't move away. Fred said tenderly, "I-I love you, Wesley."

Wesley turned at her words, his face filled with patent disbelief and he said firmly, "That's not true, Fred."

"Wesley!" she exclaimed.

Wesley looked straight into her eyes, "Don't feel like you have to tell me what you think I want to hear. I can take the truth. I prefer the truth!"

Fred threw her hands up in disgust, "What exactly is the truth, Wesley. You keep telling me you know how I feel and what I want to say. Why don't you listen, and try believing what I tell you, instead of what you think I mean."

"I saw you with Knox," Wesley said abruptly. "You don't have to try to spare my feelings. You don't owe me anything. Whatever you think I've done for you didn't come with a price tag."

Fred's voice rose in anger, "Knox! Knox!! What does Knox have to do with this? You've done a hell of a lot for me, Wesley. But you're right. What you've done for me, what we do for each other, doesn't come with a price tag. All of us work with Angel for a reason that's priceless. But I'm not doing this out of pity or obligation or gratitude."

She poked her finger angrily into his chest with each of her next words, stabbing particularly hard as her raised voice emphasized specific words in each sentence, and backed up the startled Wesley with each stab:

"I (poke) love (poke) **_you_ (POKE)**!

I (poke) **_love_ (POKE)** you (poke)!

**_I_ (POKE)** love (poke) you (poke)!

**_I _(POKE)... _love_ (POKE) ..._ you_ (POKE)! **

Have you got it straight yet! From the horse's mouth no less!"

Wesley clutched her hand, gently brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, "It doesn't look like a horse's mouth to me," he murmured. He leaned over and kissed her while she stood stock still, shocked—and then she kissed him back.

Some time later, when they both came up for air, Wesley leaned back, "You know, between Winston, my father, Faith, and you, I'm gathering quite a collection of bruises," Wesley rubbed his chest ruefully. Fred quirked up an eyebrow and with a small sly smile said, "I'll just have to kiss and make them better, won't I." Both Wesley's eyebrows went up in surprise and then he smiled too.

Angel knew he needed to talk to Wesley. The shame Angel felt, when talking with Wesley's father, grew when he found out Wesley thought he deserved it when Angel tried to smother him with a pillow. That, plus the whole conversation about Wesley not caring enough to do the uninvite ceremony told Angel they needed to have a talk. He didn't know how he could do it without talking about Connor, but he needed to try. Angel was afraid Wesley had a death wish.

Angel went to Wesley's office and stood there for a moment preparing to take the plunge. Finally, he opened the door and started to walk in—when he saw Wesley and Fred kissing passionately. Wesley was leaning back against the edge of the side of his desk with Fred comfortably folded into him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck. Angel stood there uncertainly as the pair carried on, evidently completely oblivious to his presence. He was wrong though. Just as he made up his mind to quietly back out, Fred, without looking, waved him out the door with one hand. Wesley was apparently still oblivious.

Angel smiled and backed out. Maybe talking to Wesley wasn't as urgent as he thought.

Wesley broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Fred's. They both were breathing hard. He smiled at Fred, who shyly smiled back, and he asked, "Is he gone?"

She replied softly, "Yes."

"Good," and he pulled her head close and kissed her passionately again.

Wesley walked into Angel's office with a medium sized paper bag and a box filled with the parts of the disassembled walkie-talkie. Angel was sitting, looking utterly bored, and making minor corrections to one of the endless documents he saw each day. When Wesley walked in, Angel smiled delightedly and pushed away the paperwork, "I thought you'd be...I...uh...I thought you'd be busy the rest of the day?"

"Fred has some work to do and so do I," Wesley said blandly. "She's coming with me to meet my sister tonight though. Shall I give you a full report tomorrow?"

Angel shook his head 'no' with amusement, "I'm just happy for the two of you, Wes."

Wesley smiled widely, "So am I actually."

Angel looked at the box, "So, what you got there?"

Wesley put the box down, pulled a small device out from it, and held it out for Angel's inspection, "This is a tracer, a tracking device that was inside the radio Winston left for us to find. It ran off the batteries for the radio and only ran when the radio was on."

Angel took the small traitorous piece of electronics, looked at it closely, and then gripped it tightly in his fist, "So that's how Winston knew we were there."

"Most probably," Wesley agreed. "I started to get concerned after I spoke to Willow about the events as they transpired in the van. She was convinced there was a connection to their sudden loss of Winston's radio transmissions and the unexplained secret code we heard before we went in. I decided that finding the radio was altogether too convenient and so I took it apart.

"Okay," Angel said decisively, "so he can't use that against us again. Is there some way we could use this against him?"

"I suspect not. Not that we couldn't try," Wesley replied, "but he's likely to be leery of us figuring this out and therefore avoid using it twice." Wesley walked over to the window abruptly and looked out, "I need to show you something, Angel. Do you have some time?" He looked back at Angel and pointed around the room and then to his ear. The message was clear, 'The room is bugged."

Angel bounced the tracer in his hand a couple of times, "Sure, Wes. Let's go."

Angel stood beside the car in the middle of the field. His arms were extended out to his sides and his face was raised to the two suns as he basked in the warmth and fresh air. Wesley, with his arms crossed, leaned casually against the car. He smiled indulgently as he watched Angel.

"I still can't believe you brought me all the way here to have a talk!" Angel exclaimed with a grin. The grin faltered as he had a thought, "You're sure you know how to get back?"

"Yes, Angel, I knew how to get here and I know how to get back," Wesley stood up, picked up the paper bag he'd brought, and moved over to a grassy knoll topped by a small stand of trees some distance away from the car and overlooking the landscape. Angel followed, still looking around with interest at the sun drenched, flower speckled meadow. As they settled on the grass, Wesley opened the sack and pulled out two beers similar to the ones they'd had on the night Angel talked to Wesley in the Wolfram and Hart guest quarters.

"We're having a beer," Angel asked in disbelief. "You brought me all the way to Pylea just to drink beer?"

"I needed a place where it was unlikely for Wolfram and Hart to be able to overhear our conversation. You have to admit, Pylea certainly fits the bill." Wesley eyed Angel carefully before continuing, "Also, you've looked very ill at ease lately in your new role as CEO. You've let them bog you down so much in paperwork that I think it has made you uncomfortable generally. I thought you might appreciate spending an hour or so in a place where you can relax a little and enjoy the sunshine and open air."

"Your right," Angel said thoughtfully, "I have let them set the agenda. I look at so many papers, sometimes I just want to sign them all or pitch them in the trash. Just to get rid of them."

Wesley spoke with mock seriousness, "Of the two choices, I recommend pitching them. If nothing else, it would be fun watching Eve go spare." Both men chuckled at the image of a frustrated and angry Eve for a moment.

Wesley smiled at Angel, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as you were when we first came here and you realized you weren't going to burn up from the sun." He looked briefly at the pair of suns and corrected himself, "suns." His face grew more reflective, "Except, of course, when you took care of..."

Wesley stopped suddenly, his face went completely and frighteningly blank for a few seconds.

"Wes?" Angel leaned forward urgently.

Wes shook his head confusedly, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Angel had held his unneeded breath at what was undoubtedly Wesley's sentence, '_when you took care of **Connor**_.' Angel steered the conversation onto safer ground, "You were telling me why you brought me here."

Wesley's face cleared and he continued without any sign of concern, "Oh, right."

Angel forced his scattered thoughts to still themselves and listened carefully.

Wesley set the bottles on the grass between them. "I slept in one of Wolfram and Hart's guest rooms last night at Fred and Faith's behest. They were quite...adamant about it." Wesley raised one eyebrow sardonically and Angel grinned again. "Anyway, several of these bottles were sitting _on top_ of the refrigerator in the kitchenette."

"This is a message, Angel." Wesley plucked up one bottle and displayed the label. It read Pitfield Brewery, Dark Star Ale. "Are you aware of how much effort it must have taken them to discover that I used to go down to London and would occasionally get something from Pitfield's off-license? I always used cash back then and never took the ale back to the academy. I didn't really have many friends back then and certainly no one who might know about this. I didn't even decide to stay in either guest room upstairs until ten minutes before I got there. I checked all the guest quarters today. None of them normally stock either Hoxton's Best or Dark Star. Someone put this unique imported beer, that I like, in the room and must have overheard our conversation in order to know that I prefer it at room temperature."

Wesley paused a second, looked down at the bottle and then back up at Angel, "This is the forces behind Wolfram and Hart telling us they know everything. That we can't have any secrets." Angel looked away guiltily at that as Wesley continued, "This is like having a stalker with unlimited resources and patience. Some day we'll wake up and find them in our house—figuratively speaking."

Angel picked up his beer to look at it thoughtfully, "You think we're under surveillance."

Wesley leaned forward resolutely, "I think they're constantly watching and waiting and planning for the moment when our guard is down or we're in a hurry—and they'll be ready—and we won't." He then relaxed a little, opened the beer and leaned back on one arm while he drank.

Angel opened his beer and drank too. He mulled over Wesley's words awhile and then said, "There isn't much we can do about it."

"Nothing except know the truth and stay on guard," Wesley admitted. "My father was inexcusably wrong about many things, reensouling Winston, allowing his soul to suffer this way is the worst. However, my father was right about one thing. The Wolfram and Hart people will never really be on our side. Danvers was just one of the more obvious examples. We can never really afford to trust any of them."

Angel looked down at the beer and said carefully, "Your father was right about something else too, Wesley. You didn't deserve me trying to smother you with a pillow in the hospital. I had a right to be angry, but I knew, even then, that you were trying to do the right thing."

Angel looked out across the beautiful pasture, but his eyes were unfocused, and saw, _felt_ the smothering oppression of the overwhelmingly dark, frigid ocean surrounding him again, "When C...Justine dropped me into the middle of the Pacific, I knew..._I absolutely knew_... I was never coming out. Who was ever going to find me there? I nearly went crazy down there and you saved me. I was delusional a lot. But it all seemed so real in a crazy kind of way." Angel's voice sounded flat, dead, "It was all crazy, but there was a truth in it too. I could have , or any of you. You were right to worry. Everything you tried to prevent could have happened. I didn't want to believe I could kill...someone I loved, but I was wrong."

Angel paused, took a drink, and then looked met Wesley's eyes squarely, "I don't think you believed me when I said as far as I was concerned we were good."

Wesley looked at his friend's face searchingly and then dropped his eyes, "I guess by then I'd learned my place in the scheme of things."

Angel asked quietly, "What place is that?"

Wesley replied quiet, "That I could be needed without being wanted. That I have a job to do and I have to do it regardless of how others feel about me. That pleasing others is not my job." He met Angel's gaze again, "I've always had an overwhelming need to please others. Undoubtedly, a remnant of my endless futile attempts in childhood to please my father. I could never get approval from him, so I looked for it from others. I'm sure you were aware that I sort of...looked up to you when you first employed me. I wanted...needed your approval because I respected you and therefore, I wanted to be respected by you. But I can't afford to be in this business because of hero worship. I have to do the right thing because it's the right thing, and no other reason." Wesley paused to gather his thoughts.

"You are wanted, Wes, "Angel said softly, "and needed."

Wesley blinked rapidly for a few seconds, and then said, "After I pulled you out of the ocean...well, I wasn't ready. We weren't good then, Angel." Wesley's eyes reflected his sincerity, "I think we are now."

"I'm sorry, Wes."

"I'm sorry too, Angel"

The two men sat together in companionable silence, just enjoying the peaceful surroundings, sharing the warm sunshine and the wind flowing gently through the tall grass. They slowly sipped their beers.

Angel, without looking at Wesley, said suddenly, "Hero worship, huh?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley didn't look at Angel either. "It _was_ a long time ago."

Angel sat still for little longer and then said, "Thanks, anyway."

Wesley smiled a little, "You're welcome."

They sat quietly for a while again.

Wesley took another drink and exclaimed softly, "This is really good!"

Angel looked around enjoying the sunshine and had a drink too, "Yeah, it's all good."

The car sped through the swirling portal and the hole closed quickly after them. From behind the trees on the grassy knoll, a purple faced priest with facial tattoos stepped out and smiled. He didn't know how the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart had known of this meeting in this place and he didn't know how valuable the information was, but he was glad to tell them the result. After all, any friend of the princess cow was an enemy of the priesthood of the Covenent of Trombli. He moved rapidly towards the castle in happy anticipation of secrets to tell.

**Note:** Sorry I didn't put this out yesterday. We celebrated my birthday. However, this chapter was longer than normal. I normally try for 3 thousand words a chapter, but I had a lot going on this time and since there wasn't a good breaking point at the 3 thousand word point, I decided to let you have it all.

My next update will be sometime over Thanksgiving weekend (that's 24-28 Nov for anyone that doesn't know). School will just be too hot and heavy until then. Sorry!

I'm changing my name. I'm still deciding what it will be. Anyway, you will need to look for my story by the title (Warped Reflection) rather than my name.

I have two questions:

Should I make chapters shorter? I have to warn you folks that I probably wouldn't be able to update any more often. However, I wondered if 3 thousand words at a shot are too much for comfortable reading.

When you read my characters can you hear the people in your head the way they sound in the show? When I read a story, that's how I can tell if a story's dialogue is good or not. However, it's impossible for me to do it with my own story. I think I go over it too much in editing to tell.

Thanks to my reviewers:

Elizabeth 5 (you're gonna love this chapter), Pari 106 (Thanks! That chapter was especially fun to write), White Rabbit (Thanks), Wesfan1234 (Thanks, I loved that dialogue too!), Flamingo1 (New reviewer, yea! Glad you like it! Bet you like this chapter too! Don't weird out your family too much.), Tariq (Thanks, more Angel this chapter, lots more darkness coming up in two or three chapters), Nookyfiction (Oh my gosh! Thanks for all the reviews. Another new reviewer! Hoody Hoo!).


	12. Hide and Seek

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twelve)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

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Author's note at end. I apologize to anyone who had to wait so long for this update.

Gunn leaned against Harmony's reception counter, "So, where's Angel today? I was wondering if he wants me to pull the security on slayer central or keep it in place?"

Harmony was standing behind the, "Oh, he and Buffy and some others went to…" Harmony broke off suddenly, made a small "Eek!" and ducked down, hiding out of sight behind her reception desk. Gunn, confused, looked over the counter and down at her as she frantically waved him away with both hands and made shushing noises. Bewildered, the man looked around the room wondering what had frightened the vampire so badly.

Eight teenaged girls moved down the row of offices along one side of the lobby determinedly, obviously searching for something or someone. They peered into each office as they passed them, one bounded up the stairs to the upper level, another looked searchingly across the lobby, skimming over Gunn dismissively, and placed her hands on her hips in disgust. One of the girls leaned against the frame of one of the office doors and said mournfully, "Where could he be?"

The girl looking across the lobby scowled and replied, "Maybe he went to that rooftop bar place we heard about."

The girl on the upper level came back down the stairs, three at a time, "Nothing up here."

Lobby girl strode towards the elevator with the others in tow, "Right, let's go check out that bar." The girls, still ignoring the dumbfounded Gunn, waited impatiently for the elevator and piled in rapidly when it arrived. Gunn watched the doors slide shut and turned back to Harmony's desk, "Okay, I'll bite. What was that all about?" He craned his neck over the desk to look down at Harmony.

She replied in a stage whisper, "Are they gone?"

Gunn chuckled with amusement, "Yeah, I think the clearly underage slayerettes went to take their frustration out on some poor slob of a bouncer. So, why are they frustrated, why are you afraid of them, and who are they looking for?"

Harmony stood up, smoothed out her business suit, and patted her hair, "I don't know what you mean. I just, uh, dropped my, uh, uh," her hand fumbled around on her desk as she not-very-surreptitiously grabbed something off her desk. She held the object up triumphantly, saying brightly, "pen!" It was a letter opener.

Gunn looked annoyed, "Give it up, girl." He looked at her sharply after a sudden thought, "Wait, you didn't eat someone did you?"

Harmony looked offended and protested with righteous indignation, "No, of course not! I'm officially off the 'good' stuff!" She made air quotes with her fingers as she said good, "Last thing I need is for Angel to smell somebody on my breath. One DWI and I'm staked, not to mention how fired I'd be."

Gunn, confused again, asked, "DWI?"

Harmony explained like she was saying something completely obvious, "DWI, Death While Imbibing, geez, don't you know anything?"

Gunn waved his hand as if to brush away this strange conversation, "Look, I just want to know why you were afraid of the slayers and who they were looking for."

Harmony looked like she thought this question was dumber than the last, "Hey, vampire here. Every time they show up, they come in groups big enough to be baseball teams, and they all look like they want to use me for batting practice! I'm just trying to stay out of range of their whole spidey-sense thingy. As for who they're looking for," she picked up some papers off her desk and shrugged, "who knows. They've been coming through like gangbusters a couple of times a day since they got here. At least it sounds like they're looking for a guy and that leaves me out of the running. They blew you off like Quasimodo, so I guess you're safe too." She bounced her way towards Angel's office with the paperwork."

Gunn, irked at her "Quasimodo" comment, started to open his mouth to defend himself, and then he suddenly remembered why he started talking to Harmony in the first place, "Hey, you never told me where Angel went!"

Harmony flounced to a halt, turned, and said somewhat sorrowfully, "Oh, yeah. Angel and some of the Sunnydale gang went to go see Cordelia." She looked momentarily sad and then shrugged her shoulders indifferently again, "I don't know why they'd want to see her while she's in a coma. She's, like, a vegetable. Gotta be as exciting as watching blood coagulate." She flounced away again and disappeared into Angel's office.

Danvers sat in his apartment, adjusting his headphones, as he listened to the tapes with interest. He'd known something good would come out of bugging all the new 'management' offices. As the head of the security team section, he had been able to access the very best equipment and, at least at the time, complete, unquestioned access to every nook and cranny at Wolfram and Hart. Even now, he could get in any time he really wanted. With what he could do, what he knew, and who he knew at good old W&H (many were unhappy in the changed situation), he had quite a package to sell to the right person or people. Now the question was—who? Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Angel and Buffy stood beside the hospital bed and looked down at Cordelia's tranquil face. Xander sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed and gently took Cordelia's hand. After observing her for a moment, the young Sunnydale exile commented wryly, "You know, I think this is the quietest I've ever seen Cordelia. It seems unnatural somehow. Like she should be sitting up and telling us what to do, you know?"

"I wish she would," Angel said softly. Buffy took Angel's arm and leaned her head gently against his shoulder, silently offering sympathy to ease his pain.

Giles gripped the rail at the end of the bed and asked rather hopelessly, "What have you done to help her?"

"Everything," Angel said with obvious frustration in his voice. He continued doggedly, "But we'll keep trying."

Willow, standing beside Giles, looked at Angel and whispered softly, "If there's a way, you know, magically, Angel, I'll find it. I've tackled way harder problems. After all, she's still alive!"

Angel looked at her solemnly, "I know. I never doubted you, Willow. And thanks."

Giles straightened up, reflexively attempted to adjust his non-existent glasses, and then put his hands in his pockets, "Of course, she'll have to do it from England. He paused for a second then continued a little apologetically, "I'm sending almost everyone over early tomorrow."

Angel was startled at Giles' statement and looked down at Buffy searchingly.

Buffy, avoiding Angel's inquiring look, silently separated from him and moved over to look out the mostly shuttered window. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold.

Angel dragged his eyes away from the withdrawn woman who was so important to him and looked at Giles, "Why?"

Giles sighed and moved over to stand by Buffy. He rested a supporting hand on the woman's shoulder and she leaned her head against the cool glass of the window available between the partially closed slats of the Venetian shades. Giles spoke firmly, "I don't trust Wolfram and Hart. I know you want to help us and I truly believe you want to do good. However, this organization's capacity for evil is like a disease that contaminates all who work with it. I really don't see how you can avoid infection." He turned and faced Angel squarely, Giles' voice firm, "In any case, I refuse to allow Wolfram and Hart the opportunity to infect us."

Angel looked at the people in the room; each uncomfortably avoided his gaze except Giles who seemed tensed for an outburst. Angel spoke quietly, his regret clear, "I guess I can understand that." He looked at Buffy and continued, "You would probably be safer somewhere else. Anyway, I'm glad we were able to help a little."

Buffy looked back at Angel, her eyes clearly sad, "You helped, Angel, a lot."

Xander, still sitting and holding Cordelia's hand, spoke up, "Yeah, you know I never thought I'd ever say this to you…but…thank you, Angel. For the eye and all," he pointed up at his new eye and both his eyes expressed his real gratitude.

Buffy looked briefly at Xander, moving over and laying her hand on Xander's shoulder. He smiled wryly up at Buffy and put his hand softly on top of Buffy's, patting it gently. Then Buffy smiled at Angel; her eyes seemed to burn a hole in Angel and he looked at Giles instead, "Where are all of you going? Will it be safe there?"

Giles relaxed slightly into the familiarity of his lecture mode and nodded, "Quite safe. One of the few watcher complexes to survive the massacre was the Watcher Academy. It probably wasn't a prime target. Many of the Watchers assigned to the academy were there because they were no longer active due to age or infirmity, so they weren't exactly a dire threat. Also, for obvious reasons, security at the academy, technologically, physically, and mystically, was always the very best avail. The very last thing active watchers wanted to worry about was the safety of their children. Perhaps if they'd taken the same attitude about the other watcher facilities more would have survived. In any case, the academy still stands. The few watchers who survived the other attacks straggled into the academy over the past few months and helped to beef up security at the facility. Many of the children in the school were made orphans by the attacks on the council and most of them, orphans or not, have taken up permanent residence there in the interests of safety. The slayers should be safer there than anywhere else," Giles and Buffy exchanged a look of joint amusement at the necessity of 'protecting' the slayers. "The school has excellent facilities for housing, feeding, and training large groups of people. In addition, the slayers can only add to the security of the academy."

Angel realized Giles had qualified one of his earlier statements, "Giles, you said you were sending almost everyone. Who aren't you sending?"

"Faith and myself," Giles replied. The watcher leaned back against the window sill and gripped the edge before carrying on, "Faith still isn't free and clear to leave the country and, regardless, she expressed an interest in staying to help Wesley with his brother. In my case, I'm a little more concerned about what Wesley's father is up to. I think I'll stay and try to find out. Wesley has invited me to come with him tonight to meet with his sister. I intend to be there."

The room was still as everyone in it mulled over what had been said. Only the regulated, beep, beep, beep, of the heart monitor disturbed the quiet and reminded the group of their reason for coming.

They all looked silently down again at the pale-faced, dark-haired girl who looked nothing more than asleep.

………………………………………...

Wesley cupped his hands trying to look through the glass of the front door into the depths of the darkened offices of O'Day Real Estate. He could see a reception desk and doors but not much else. The office should be open according to the hours listed on the door, in fact the open sign was visible through the glass, but the door firmly resisted his jiggle of the handle. Looking around in the early twilight to carefully confirm the emptiness of the darkening parking lot and surroundings, Wesley reached into his jacket and pulled out a small leather case, unzipped it, and, selecting two tools, he began to work on the lock as quickly as possible. Hearing a satisfying click, he smiled slightly as he slipped inside the office. He had acquired many new skills over his months of exile. Moving past the reception desk he started to reach for the nearest door when he nearly tripped over a dark shape at his feet. Pulling out a pencil-sized flashlight, he clicked it on and saw the obstruction clearly in his beam.

She was pretty, her long brown hair spread appealingly out to either side of her white blouse. The effect was ruined by the dark rust-brown stain dribbled down the front of her shirt, the extreme paleness of her skin, and the blank, dead, staring eyes gleaming up at him. Kneeling down, Wesley examined the body and immediately discovered the tell-tale pair of holes in the side of her neck. The blood was dry. Sweeping the area with the light, he saw a purse beneath the desk. Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, he searched the bag and pulled out a wallet. Her name was Sandra O'Day and she would have been eighteen years old in…ten days. He sighed at the waste and carefully replaced the wallet and purse. Steeling himself, he opened the door labeled Patrick O'Day, Realtor. He was not surprised to discover a man sprawled on the floor. Unlike the girl, he had fought his attacker and paid with a broken arm and neck. Wesley checked the wallet inside the man's jacket and confirmed that it was the realtor. Leaving the body undisturbed, Wesley moved to the desk scanning through the files and papers strewn across the desk.

Although messy, the desk had the air of organized chaos rather than the appearance of rifling by some outside force. Wesley rummaged through the paperwork, the insides of the desk, and flicked through the man's day planner without finding anything of interest. Scanning the room briefly with the shaft of light, he moved back out to the reception area.

The two remaining doors turned out to be a supply closet and an unlabeled office. This office was much neater. Dying plants were scattered around the room. But there was no body. The name plate on the desk was inscribed 'Jean Rydell,' which was the same name on the business card Wesley had found in his apartment after the attack by Winston. Wesley searched the desk finding nothing of interest. The surface was clear except for the planner. Flipping through the planner, he caught the name Winston Wyndam-Pryce. It was an appointment for five days ago at 8 pm. Circled in red underneath was the word 'Warehouse.' Wesley sat back in the chair thoughtfully. He hadn't seen anything about warehouses in the paperwork he'd looked at. Wesley shone the beam around the room until it rested on the computer sitting beside him. After fifteen minutes of searching through the computer files, he gave a small smile as the printer printed out a list of warehouse listings.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update. Hard to believe it's almost been a year. Among other things, my husband was hospitalized and almost died. I apparently live in interesting times (like the Chinese curse says).

Anyway, I plan to update every two weeks (next update on the weekend of the 21st of October). Like I always said, I will finish this story.

I want to thank everyone who reviewed my last chapter and also those who expressed sympathy and concern over my home situation. So thank you: Miss American Pie, Psychotic chaos, Tariq, Shahid, B. L. B. Liquor, Euley, Nutty99, Jonathon, Pari106, Flamingo1, Eule, White Rabbit, Wesfan1234 (I notice some of my favorite writers are in this group).

As always, you guys rock!


	13. Party Crashers

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

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Author's Note: If you're reading this, you should read Chapter 12 first. It's new too. It replaced an author's note I had. I decided to give you two chapters since you guys had to wait so long. Have fun!

"Hey, Wes!" Faith called to him as he walked by the elevator she and a man were stepping out of while she held the doors back from closing. She lightly supported the man, who walked slowly and carefully and looked around the reception area with interest. Wesley, carrying a couple of file folders, stopped and greeted her back, "Faith."

"I want ya to meet someone," Faith said with a smile. "This is Robin Wood. He was at Sunnydale with us fighting the First. He was also the last principal of Sunnydale High, but don't hold that against him."

Wesley held out his hand, "I thought that particular position at the school almost guaranteed dying in some hideous way? I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce by the way."

Robin smiled and gripped Wesley's hand firmly in a handshake, "They did try to kill me. I guess there were just too many targets at the time." Robin looked at Wesley curiously, "So, Faith tells me you were a watcher."

Wesley looked warily at Faith, "Yes, I can imagine what Faith told you."

Robin looked at Faith inquiringly, "She said you both had problems in Sunnydale, but, how did she put it? You really improved once you stopped screaming like a girl."

Faith smiled innocently.

Wesley said to her, a little irritated, "Buffy told you about that, didn't she?"

"Hey, big guy, ya should have heard her before the whole Hyperion attack." Faith said amused, "She was all 'useless watcher this' and 'wussy Wesley' that, and a few words I totally didn't know she knew."

Wesley sighed, "Nice to know you're in my corner, Faith."

Faith looked mildly miffed, "I told her. But you know B. Some things she's gotta figure out on her own. After she saw you in action, it was all cool."

Robin decided it was a good time to change the subject, "I heard you had a little problem here earlier today?"

Wesley gave a slight smile, "Yes, but Faith managed the problem quite handily."

Faith just grinned.

Robin looked back and forth at the two, "Hmm, yes. Well, I suppose you heard about the whole slayer group leaving for England."

Wesley nodded, "Yes, Angel told me you were all leaving."

"Not me, Wes," Faith put her hand on her hip and wagged her eyebrows suggestively, "Ya wouldn't know what to do without me."

Wesley just shook his head, mildly amused.

Robin looked at her mildly, "Do you both want to be alone, I can…" He waved his hand vaguely as if to indicate his plan to disappear off somewhere and moved slightly as if to leave them. Faith clutched his arm preventing his mock departure. Robin smiled slightly at her.

"Oh, quit it," Faith scowled at him. "You know perfectly well I'm the only thing propping ya up at the moment. Watchers are such babies."

Robin squeezed her hand and smiled more broadly, "You know, I can't get used to being called a Watcher. It's ironic really, I was raised by a Watcher, but I refused to become a Watcher when he suggested it. I could never shake the feeling that they were somehow partly responsible for my Mother's death. Now, here I am, becoming a Watcher."

Wesley looked interested, "You were raised by a Watcher? If you don't mind me asking, who was your mother?"

Robin said softly, "She was a Slayer. Bernie, her Watcher, raised me after she died." Faith hugged his arm, looking up at him with compassion.

Wesley, embarrassed, offered, "I'm truly sorry. I do believe I read about her. She was very brave, not that that would make up for losing her."

Robin answered, "She was very…driven, and it was a long time ago. Anyway, Giles assures me the new Council will be very different."

Wesley assured him, "If Rupert Giles is going to run it, I'm sure it will be dramatically different."

The elevator bell dinged interrupted their conversation and they watched a gaggle of ten teenage slayers get off the car and move past them. The girls mumbled a jumble of hi's as they flowed past, gathered in a clutch in the middle of the lobby, and whispering together for a moment before moving off down one of the corridors. Whispers and girlish giggles faded down the hall as the girls disappeared from view.

The three by the elevator watched the girl's departure and then the two men looked at Faith inquiringly. She shrugged, "Not a clue, guys. The teenyboppers kinda live in their own world complete with secret handshakes and decoder rings. After prison, it's a little like babysitting Martians."

All three looked at the hallway that the girls had trooped down and then looked back at each other.

Robin cleared his throat and looked at Faith, "So Faith, where's the medical section you want me to go to and where's this paperwork you need to look at?

Wesley queried, "Paperwork?"

"Yeah, Wes. The lawyers called and wanted me to review some paperwork before they make me legal an' all."

"I better go with you to check out this paperwork then," Wesley commented. "I was unaware they had called you. You're also going to the Medical Section?"

"Yeah," Faith said. "I spent all day convincing him to come in. He thinks he's ready for the real world. I think he needs more time on his back in bed. Course, I would think that no matter what." She smirked at Robin, "weren't ya supposed to try to surprise me some more?"

"I'm probably going to need a little more convalescence before I can do that kind of surprising," Robin said mildly.

A figure dressed like an odd, tall Humphrey Bogart, long dark trench coat, collar pulled up high covering his face, soft brown fedora, and large face-concealing sunglasses, scooted out of the hallway cattycorner from the one that the girls had gone down and dashed to the elevator frantically pushing the call button—his green hand the only thing betraying his identity. Wesley exclaimed, "Lorne! What are you doing?"

Lorne looked attempted to look in all directions at once as he nervously blurted out, "Have you seen them?"

"Precisely whom do you mean? Wesley asked as he scanned the lobby briefly.

"The slayers! Have you seen any slayers? said the green man impatiently.

Faith put one hand on her hip and said with annoyance, "Hey! Whadda I look like? Salami?"

Lorne looked momentarily apologetic, "I don't mean you, honey. You're sane. I'm talking about those other little hormone-filled bundles of joy!"

Faith smirked, "I'm sane? My shrink'll be pleased to hear that."

Wesley, totally confused at this point interrupted the uninformative by-play, "The slayers? Why are you worried about the slayers?"

"Well, you see…," Lorne started as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He rushed in and stabbed some button repeatedly. His face showed some relief and he spoke rapidly as the doors started to slide closed, "Sorry, I'll explain it lat.." The doors closed on his final words.

The sound of a herd of pounding feet produced a gaggle of girls, "We heard the elevator? Was Lorne here? Where did he go?" A girl in the back, hidden by the others, cried plaintively, "I told you we should have left someone on the elevators!"

Wesley speechless, his face shifting from confusion to astonishment, jerkily pointed his finger down the corridor Lorne had appeared from originally. The girls, acting like they heard a starting shot of a gun at a track meet, probably broke en mass the 100 meter dash record as they swarmed the entrance to the corridor and were gone, the echo of pounding feet receding in to the distance.

All three looked at the hallway that the girls had invaded, looked at the silent elevator, and then looked back at each other; finally, the two men focused on Faith inquiringly.

Faith waved her hands disclaiming all knowledge, "Hey, remember? _Babysitter. Martians_." She turned her head toward the now quiet hallway and qualified her statement, "But, ya know, not bein' here when they get back is probably a plan."

Wesley, also eyeing the hallway with some slight trepidation, replied, "Um…yes, why don't you drop Robin off at the medical section and then come to my office, Faith. I'll hunt down this paperwork, look it over, and have it ready for you there," Wesley asked as he focused back on Faith and Robin.

"You just can't stand bein' without me, can ya, Wes?" Faith looked amused.

"Oh, I think I can contain myself, Faith," Wesley said blandly.

Faith just waved cheekily as she guided Robin off in the direction of the medical center.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Leaning against the file cabinet and watching Faith go through the paperwork in front of her, Wesley said with mock seriousness, "Robin's not exactly the man I normally associate with you, Faith. A high school principal?"

"He's kinda a challenge. Only guy I've ever wanted to do more than once if ya' know what I mean," she smirked up at the former watcher as she leaned back in the comfortable chair.

"I suppose I have a vague idea, Faith," Wesley smirked back. They both started laughing, enjoying the mutually peaceful moment.

Wesley continued more seriously, "You're a good person, Faith. You deserve a shot at the brass ring too."

Faith looked up at him, her face vulnerable, "It means a lot to me that you feel that way, Wes." They both were silent for a moment as they contemplated the painful history that brought them to this point.

Faith decided it was time for a change in conversation. She smoothly rose from the chair and sidled over to Wesley, "So, when's Freddie gonna take you out for a test drive?"

Wesley smiled again, "Let's just say it's under negotiation."

Faith drew a finger along Wesley's scruffy jaw, "Negotiation! How much negotiatin' does it take? You know ya' just screw tab A into slot B." She made a fist and wiggled it back and forth suggestively.

Wesley remained completely relaxed despite Faith's open flirting. He knew she was just playing with him, "You have a very limited idea of the options in lovemaking."

She smirked again, "That's what Robin thinks too. I plan to show him different."

Wesley continued, "In any case, I love her, Faith. I'm not just trying to screw her."

Faith laughed and looked him up and down, "Just as long as it's on the agenda too, watcher o' mine. Boy, do you need to get laid."

Amused, Wesley said, "Don't we all."

She grinned and went to punch him on the arm and then stopped herself, "Oh, sorry. Told myself I wouldn't do that to you anymore."

Wesley straightened up and casually moved to the door, "Oh, that's all right, Faith. I've recently had some incentive to gather bruises." He kept his face straight as he turned sideways and looked at her, "In fact, I've been tempted to throw myself down the stairs."

"What? No way!" Faith's face was incredulous.

"Oh yes, just another part of the negotiations, you see," Wesley smirked one last time and walked out.

She could hear him chuckling down the hall. Faith muttered, "You practically need a score card to track all the changes in that man." Then she snorted, "Watchers!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The four people sat over the remains of a meal in the quiet, intimate setting of the candlelight restaurant and giving to all outward appearance the look of nothing more than two couples sharing a convivial evening together.

"So, are you completely Americanized, or is this just a look you took on to wind up father. Because, I have to say it's working. He's gone absolutely round the bend," Mary said dryly as she raised her wine glass and took a sip.

Wesley smiled without amusement, "I didn't dress specifically to displease father. In any case, I doubt my personal appearance is the primary reason for his displeasure with me. He always aimed far higher than that when he took me to task. He just used the extraneous as additional shot to bolster his ammunition and wear down opposition."

Oh, you're quite right," Mary placed the glass on the table and played with the stem as she talked. "He's unhappy about many things: that you stood up to him, that you work for a vampire, that you're interfering with _his_ operation, that you work for Wolfram and Hart, that you work for a vampire, that you look like you live in an alley, and, did I mention that he's unhappy _that you work for a vampire_? She paused for a second thinking and then continued, Oh, and completely unrelated, father is very unhappy about an unaccountably virulent rash he's developed."

Giles coughed suddenly and turned his head, the possibility of a hint of laughter being held back barely discernable. Wesley watched him puzzled.

Fred interjected, leaning forward, "Wesley does not look like he lives in an alley! I think he's very handsome just the way he is!"

Wesley placed his hand on hers and gently smiled at her, "Thank you for the glowing recommendation, Fred. But I doubt my father sees me with the same rose-tinted glasses you wear."

Mary shifted her eyes between the obviously affectionate couple with sharp interest, but said nothing. Instead she smiled apologetically, "The 'alley' comment is a direct quote from the dear pater. I quite agree, the look is definitely an improvement. However, almost anything is an improvement over that old school tie look you used to slap on."

Giles cleared his throat in a way that projected his irritation as he jerked with some frustration on his tie to loosen it. He was wearing his tweed jacket and was, in fact, wearing the Watcher Academy 'old school tie,' "Really, is it necessary to run down the look expected of all of us from the council? I only wore this get-up out of respect for you. I actually haven't worn this 'look' in quite a while."

Mary looked at him speculatively, "Hmmm, yes. Well, I imagine you _look_ quite interesting under all that kit."

Giles gave another irritated jerk on the tie and started to unbutton the top button of his shirt when he realized what she had said and his ears took on a slight reddish tinge from embarrassment while he attempted to hide his pleasure at the comment.

Wesley had noticed Giles' interest when Wesley had introduced them, and now, he was amused to see that Mary had noticed too. Looking back and forth at the two of them, Wesley said with some amusement to Mary, "Really, Mary, have some mercy on the man, and not that this isn't intensely interesting, but I had hoped you might have some information for us beyond father's rather predictable infuriation over my appearance and co-workers."

Mary smiled gently at her brother and then leaned forward more seriously, "He's trying to find Winston. He's put a reward out on the street for information through a shady local contact named Emil. The council apparently used him on occasion in the past to gather information before they were destroyed. He seemed rather slimy to me, but, of course to father, he has the virtue of at least being human."

Giles inquired, "You wouldn't happen to know where your father got the money for the reward, would you? Is he using his own money?"

Mary looked at Giles, her eyes sparkling, "I think he anticipates using funds from the council's accounts. Why? Do you have some special interest in our finances?"

Momentarily captivated by her eyes, Giles stumbled over his words, "Umm, He m-may find it m-more difficult to access those funds than he t-thinks."

"That should be quite diverting to watch. I look forward to it." Mary propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin in her hand as she confided, "Did you know that all the girls at the academy practically swooned when you were around? You were the resident bad boy, you played in a band, and all the Professors said to stay away from you. They couldn't have picked a worse thing to say. It absolutely glued our interest in you."

Giles sputtered, turning red, which made an interesting contrast to the small white bandage on his forehead, and then managed to ask, "You were at the academy at the same time as I was?"

Mary sat back abruptly, looking down, her smile faltering, "No, not exactly." She looked back up at Giles smiling ruefully, "I wish I was." Giles smiled a little, too, in response. Moving her gaze to her brother, Mary laughed softly, "Sorry, I got us off track a little. We were talking about Emil and the reward."

Wesley smiled gently at his sister and crooked up one eyebrow, "Hmmm, yes, Emil. Interesting. I should be able to shut that down. I've used Emil in the past, and when he finds out that Wolfram and Hart's interests are involved, I'm sure that he will prefer to keep us happy rather than father," Wesley smiled thinly, "for proper remuneration, of course."

Giles frowned at that, but kept silent, listening.

"Wesley," Mary continued with less certainty, "I didn't know about Winston. I only found out when father decided he would have to come here to Los Angeles."

Wesley surprise was evident in his voice, "Mother and father didn't tell you Winston was dead?"

Mary corrected herself, "Oh, I knew he was dead. Mother told me as soon as I got back, but she was too broken up about it to explain and I just assumed he died in the general destruction of the council. I didn't find out about the reensouling ceremony until father told me to pack." She looked down at the table miserably, "I tried to call you when I found out about Winston's death, but the phone lines into Los Angeles were impossible for some reason."

Wesley and Fred looked at each other, remembering the chaos caused in the city by the Beast and Jasmine. Wesley looked back at his sister, "Yes, well things have been…difficult around here over the last few months."

Mary smiled a little sadly, "Things have been a little difficult all over lately." She rose, placing her napkin on the table. The two men stood politely. "Oh, relax. I'm just feeling the need to find the ladies room," Mary paused for a moment, "care to join me, Fred?"

Fred looked up and started to say, "Oh, thanks but….," at a meaningful look from Mary, she changed her words, "I guess I, uh, will." Both women moved away leaving the men to settle back down in their seats.

As Wesley watched Fred scurry after Mary, he thought Mary was probably going to pump Fred about their relationship. _Good, it would save him getting grilled_. Wesley looked at Giles, who was still looking after the women, and Wesley said a little amused, "So, do you like my sister?"

"What?" Giles was startled out of his reverie, "Oh, yes, yes, of course, she's very…nice." He looked in the direction the women had gone again. Giles cleared his throat and attempted to sound casual, "Has she been in the council long? I wonder that I haven't seen or at least heard about her before."

Wesley laughed, "You mean because of your close, _personal_ relationship with my Father?"

Giles laughed too a little sheepishly, "I suppose it would be tad strange for him to mention his daughter to me, considering his opinion of me. He looked at Wesley consideringly, "Do you mind, um, my… interest?"

Wesley said sardonically, "Me? The man with the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone? Why would I mind?"

Giles sat up a little straighter and began fidgeting nervously with his utensils, "Yes, that comment was fairly cruel. I can understand your fee…"

Wesley interrupted smiling, "No, no, I don't mind. Not that it matters. Mary would probably thrash me soundly if I interfered with her affai…um…business. Anyway, as far as interest goes, I think it's obvious that it goes both ways."

Giles' face brightened, "Really?" Then trying to tamp down his voice a little, he said a little more controlled, "Well, that would be…" His voice faded as he looked where the women had gone.

Wesley finished for him, "Nice?"

Giles looked back at Wesley and smiled, "Yes, nice."

Both men sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their wine, each with his own thoughts and then they lightly discussed the coming departure of the slayers and the search for Winston.

A loud bang and crash caused both men to look across the dining room just in time to see Winston shoving past an overturned table and flinging a waiter into another. He was wiping his hands on his clothes and then, looking over their way, he grinned broadly at them waving cheerily as he slammed out an exit. From where Winston had apparently come, the door to the ladies room was still strongly swinging back and forth.

To be continued….


	14. Girl Talk

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Fourteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Mary sat in the anteroom of the bathroom, her purse open on the counter, freshening up her make-up, while Fred leant against the wall near the door with her hands in her back pockets as she watched the other woman curiously.

"So Fred, did I detect something going on between you and my brother? Mary looked at Fred through the mirror inquiringly, "I don't want to sound nosey, but I don't have much time and it's like pulling teeth to get my brother to dish up the dirt."

Fred stood, her face coloring, and stammered a moment, "I…uh…w-we just, um..."

"Oh dear, I've embarrassed you," Mary said apologetically as she stood and moved over to Fred. That really wasn't my intention. It's just…I was just thinking that you might have some questions about my brother that you want answered. I know it's hard to get him to open up sometimes." Mary's face was sincere, "Just tell me to mind my own business if you want and I'll understand. But there are some…things that Wesley may never be able to speak about. Things you may need to know."

Fred looked uncertain as she turned and walked away a few feet and then turned back to Mary determined, "Normally, I'd say it would be better for Wesley and me to work things out on our own and for most stuff that's still true. However, I know it hurts Wesley to speak of his father and I'm thinking I do need to know. He says these odd things, like his father terrorized all of you and another time he said that his liking for heights was one of the few good things he got from his father. Which seemed kinda strange actually. How does the father that terrorizes him teach him to like heights?"

Mary laughed, but there was a sad ironic tone imbued within it, "He said that! How odd." She paused a moment musing over the idea, "Hmm…Yeeesss, technically, I suppose that's true; Father did give Wesley a very good reason to like heights." She leaned against the wall, tilting her head back in retrospection, "You see, father is acrophobic. He's deathly afraid of heights. It's the reason father had to quit as a field watcher. He was certainly ruthless enough for the job and no one ever dared question his combat skills. Anyway, Wesley used to climb out of his bedroom window onto the roof at home because he knew father would never look for him there. Wesley used to go up there and read for hours. That went on until father figured it out and had Wesley's window nailed shut. That was quite a shock for Wesley when he discovered it for the first time. Father did not appreciate being reminded of his fear."

Mary sighed and sat back down on her chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap as if preparing for some intensive verbal examination, "You asked about how our father terrorized us. It's…complicated. Father hated what he perceived as weakness and stomped on it ruthlessly when he thought he saw it in his children. It wasn't as simple as physical abuse, not that father wasn't capable of violence when he thought it necessary, it was psychological warfare of the most horrific kind. Father used our fears as a weapon and he was as relentless as a juggernaut." Mary swallowed hard and looked down, "If you were afraid of…blood, you were…taken to the morgue to see the various gruesome ways that people died. If you were afraid of the dark, you spent hours alone in total darkness. If you were afraid of small tight places, you were locked in tiny spaces night after night." Mary looked up at Fred, "Were you aware that Wesley is claustrophobic?"

Fred shook her head no, afraid to trust her voice's steadiness at these revelations.

Mary smiled humorlessly, her face pale, "I'm not surprised you didn't know. I doubt Wesley would admit it even if he were trapped in a small space, but you would know something was wrong. A locked closet, a small enclosed space of any kind, is Wesley's idea of hell."

Fred made a small sound like she'd suddenly realized something and Mary looked inquiringly. Fred explained, "Angel was trapped in an iron box under the ocean for months. Wesley found him, even though the last time they'd seen each other, Angel tried to…" Fred stopped abruptly as she realized what she was about to say and to whom she was about to say it.

Mary said simply, "Angel tried to kill Wesley when his throat was cut and he was in the hospital. I know about it. It's all in a report father has about Wesley. I was somewhat surprised to hear Wesley's take on it when we went to Wolfram and Hart. Anyway, your point is that Wesley put all that aside to save Angel from a fate worse than death, especially from Wesley's perspective."

Fred nodded, "I suppose Wesley would have tried to save Angel no matter what. It's just the way Wesley is. But it does put a certain edge into the whole thing." Fred paused and then said grimly, "I guess everyone has their own idea of hell, mine is a dimension called Pylea."

Mary voice was strained, "Mine was blood. Father made me stick m-my hand in the exposed guts of a terribly mangled corpse at the morgue. By the time I got home, I was hysterical and not even father's discipline could control me. He was going to take me again the next night and Wesley unwisely tried to intervene. Father locked him in the closet under the stairs overnight. I-I could hear him screaming and pounding on the door, and then…it got worse, because it got completely quiet. Wesley was nearly catatonic when father opened the door the next day. It was two days before Wesley recovered." Her voice reached a higher pitch, "He was only_ six_!" Mary bowed her head and clenched her fists, obviously overwhelmed by anger. Fred moved closer and then stilled to give her time to gather her composure. She finally looked up, her face pale, but calmer, "He was never quite the same again, but he never made a sound whenever he was locked up after that. I never allowed myself to _appear _afraid of blood, or anything else again. Wesley paid too high a price for it. But, perhaps ultimately more damaging in the long run, however, was the way that father picked at Wesley's confidence. Nothing was ever good enough, no effort, no grade, no achievement. Wesley became obsessed with trying to gain father's approval and that simply wasn't attainable."

Fred gently squeezed the woman's shoulder in support. Mary patted Fred's hand, "You might think it strange for me to tell a complete stranger such intimate secrets about our lives, but you see, Wesley has written many times about his life here and each of you, and I could read between the lines. I know he cares very deeply for you. Based on what I've seen tonight, I'm hoping you feel the same too."

Fred said with deep feeling, "I love him."

Mary smiled widely, "That is just super! But that makes it even more important that you understand Wesley's difficulty dealing with emotional issues."

"I think I'm getting a clue. He's told me some stuff and with what you told me, I think we'll get there."

Mary's smiled dimmed a little, "I also have another concern. Wesley seems…different. It's too early to tell if that's for better or worse, but he is definitely different. I've read father's file and now that I've seen Wesley…" Mary paused and spoke softly, "I can see that Wesley has forced himself to become more…ruthless. Wesley was always such a gentle soul really. I think he was just born that way. My father always took it as a sign of weakness, but I think it's Wesley's greatest strength. He got very sick right after he was born you know. He nearly died and then they weren't sure if he'd ever be able to walk. As a result, he was an incredible klutz growing up. But he's tough. He's always been a survivor—and he never gives up. You should have seen him when he was little, always tripping over this or dropping that. His coordination was off, you see. He spent hours practicing crossbow, darts, knives—anything to improve his manual dexterity. I remember him virtually dragging himself up the stairs over and over, just to all but fall down them trying to get his legs to work. Of course, he never did it when father was around. As I said, father was merciless about any sign of weakness and Wesley was practically a neon billboard. Fortunately, father was gone a lot of the time; he was _the man _to call for linguistic translation of any kind. He was forever traipsing off at a moments notice for Timbuktu or some such place."

Mary shook her head as if to get her thoughts in order, "Anyway, Wesley had to hide his gentleness behind a façade of what he considered the perfect watcher persona. I can't say I'm sorry to see that stupid, pompous front gone; but I'm a little concerned about what's taken its place."

Fred's voice was reassuring, "He's still a good man and there's a gentleness and willingness to sacrifice for others that is breathtaking sometimes. But the last couple of years…were bad, very bad." Her voice was unhappy, "We're all a little more…pessimistic than we were before. Sometimes what we have to _do_, have to _accept_, scares me. I wonder if our pragmatism is just another way of rationalizing things we know we shouldn't do. I wonder if we'll cross the line without even realizing we did it. All I know for sure is I'm going to do my best to be there for him. We have a better chance of making it together than we have apart."

"That is certainly true," Wesley's cheerful voice startled them both but it wasn't Wesley—it was Winston and he was leaning in through the open door smiling malevolently at them, "I'd say your chances are greatly diminished by being separated right now." He slipped in and gently stopped the swinging motion of the door behind him. Then, as Mary gasped, he crooked his head to one side, warped his face into to the demon he had become, and grinned even more malevolently as his smile grew fangs.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Interestingly enough, two of my reviewers are from the recently earthquake struck Pakistan and so I will pass on a mutual concern of theirs and anyone else of compassion. Pakistan is in dire straits from the earthquake and many victims are homeless without even the most basic needs for survival. Please give if you can, anything can help.

If you found this chapter a little to much ofa soap opera, I'm sorry. You'll just have to believe that some important pieces to the on-going plot are here. The action is about to rev up shortly.

As for the reviews-thank you everyone! shahid (sorry it took so long to update, glad you liked it!); Miss American Pie(interesting new name choice) two reviews (hoody-hoo),I love to hate Roger too, you'll probably hate him more after this chapter, as far as Winston goes-are you aware that this story is only about two thirds done?; Tariq glad you liked it, although I try to stay in canon as much as possible, the story is centered around Wesley and Fresley, but don't worry, Angel will be there!


	15. Strike and Counterstrike

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Fifteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Mary looked with dismay at her demonized brother, "Oh, Winston. I am sorry father did this to you. If I had known what was going on, I would have tried to stop it."

Winston chuckled with amusement, "Like that would happen! As if he would ever listen to your opinion. Father's attitude towards women in the council, especially at the decision-making level, is very well known. If it hadn't been for Uncle Robert's intervention, you'd still be assisting mother with running the household and acting decorative at parties." He started forward menacingly, "And now that the chit-chat portion of the entertainment is over…"

As he moved forward, Fred grabbed a potted plant off the counter and threw it at the vampire. He ducked it by instinct and it smashed against the door behind him. He laughed as he saw the mess, "Is that the best you can…" He looked back to the two women and saw that Mary was standing with a stake and a cross in her hands and Fred was holding a toy pistol. Mary said, "Oh, I think we can do better."

"With toys and sticks? Really? How old-fashioned. I decided to modernize." Winston took out a real gun and started to aim it when Fred fired her water pistol. The holy water hit like acid on the vampire's hand and he yelped dropping his gun. He tried to reach down to retrieve the automatic, but Fred fired relentlessly, hitting his exposed hands and the back of his neck. He lifted his hands before his face and tried to protect himself while trying to avoid the fiery splashes until, unable to stand it any longer, he cried out, "Argh!" in frustration and slammed out the door. They could hear a bang and crash of dishes shattering beyond the still swinging door.

The two women looked at each other, Mary cool and Fred excited, and Mary calmly observed (quirking up an eyebrow that looked remarkably like Wesley's), "What a novel idea, Fred."

Pleased, Fred replied enthusiastically, "Do ya like it? I got the idea from Winston actually. He tried something similar with Angel, except he used a big ole' pot an' I thought 'how stupid is that? a big ole' pot' and I thought with all those giant water guns and all, why use some pot. So I got a water gun, one of those big splashy kind but it was too large so I picked up…," Fred stopped when she realized that Mary was giving her the same kind of deer-in-the-headlights, glazed look that the guys gave her when she rattled on. "Sorry, I get excited sometimes and babble," she mumbled as her face reddened with embarrassment.

Mary smiled encouragingly, "Oh, please don't apologize. I'm just realizing why Wesley is so smitten."

Both pleased and embarrassed, Fred reddened even more just as the door slammed open again and Giles and Wesley crashed in breathless and worried and looking ready to fight.

"Isn't that just like men, Fred?" Mary crossed her arms looking rather odd with the cross in one hand and the stake in the other, "Too late and testosterone flowing all over the place." She picked up her purse, neatly replaced the tools of her trade, swept up the abandoned pistol on the floor (slipping on the safety and adding it to her bag), and strolled to the door, "Sorry to eat, be threatened, and run, chaps, but it's really time I got back." She hugged her brother impulsively, "See you later, Wesley. She's a keeper, little brother." Wesley basked in the rare familial affection and smiled tenderly at his sister and then at Fred. Fred's face grew redder, but she smiled back. Mary smiled too and then said sprightly to Giles, "You wouldn't care to give a damsel in distress a lift would you."

Giles, caught up in the general good feeling, also smiled, his relief still showing, and waved his arm expansively to indicate 'this way.' He muttered, "See you later, Wesley," as they left.

Also relieved, Wesley moved over to Fred who slid into his arms, "I should probably go after Winston, but I imagine he's long gone by now. What did you do to him?"

Fred waved the toy pistol in his sight, "Holy water gun, Batman."

Wesley laughed, "I'm glad you're on my side."

"Always," Fred said with a touch of fierceness under her playfulness.

Smiling softly, he hugged her tighter to him for a second and then continued, "I plan to spend tomorrow checking out warehouses, but I reserved the rest of evening for us. What would you like to do?"

Fred said slowly, "Well, I guess first I'd like to get out of the ladies room."

He looked around shocked, saying in a scandalized voice, "Oh dear," and stumbled both in words and actions as he took Fred's hand and fumbled with embarrassment out of the door, apologizing to a startled woman as he passed her. Fred thought he was adorable.

The woman, Abby Givens, was a tourist and as she peered cautiously into the bathroom, she couldn't help thanking God she lived in Iowa.

……………………………………

Winston was still angry over that skinny girlfriend of his brother's. American bint! Winston kept going over the disastrous events at the restaurant in his mind, while only half listening to the man facing him. At least he'd managed to pull himself together enough to scare his brother on his way out. It was such fun pulling on the Mouse's chain. Winston focused impatiently again on the conversation of the idiot droning on and on in front of him.

"…valuable information and connections will certainly help you achieve your goals. I think you'll find many at Wolfram and Hart willing and able to assist you," Danvers spoke earnestly to his possible future boss.

Winston decided it was time to put some order back into his life. He put a sociable arm around Danvers and, giving him a friendly squeeze, he spoke with confidence, "Oh, you can certainly help. As a matter of fact, just consider yourself one of the family." Then he drove his fangs into the startled man's neck. Gripping tight as the man struggled and then slumped, he drew his head back smiling, "Congratulations! You passed the interview! Welcome to the firm," as he sliced his own arm with a fingernail, drawing a steady flow of blood.

………………………………………

Wesley stood at Harmony's counter waiting patiently as she finished a call with a client. Leaning on the counter, he pleasantly daydreamed about last night on the beach with Fred. They'd walked barefoot, squishing their toes in the wet sand, strolling hand in hand, talking for hours about anything and everything. Her velvety dark hair shining in the moonlig…

"Wes!" Harmony said for the third time.

Wesley broke out of his reverie, "Sorry, what?"

"You're leaning on my desk. I asked what you want. Again. Geez!" Harmony looked exasperated.

Wesley cleared his throat, "Um, yes, I wanted to tell you I'll be out checking out warehouses all morning. It has to do with Winston. Can you let Angel know?"

Harmony nodded, "Yeah, sure, but it'll have to wait until he gets back."

Wesley looked towards Angel's office just in time to see workmen open both doors and carry rolled carpet inside, "What's going on?"

Harmony wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Angel's getting his carpet replaced. About time, too. If you knew what I can smell in there, you wouldn't want to go in there either. Ugh!" Anyway, he's seeing the slayers off today. He's not planning on coming back until the carpet's done."

"Right," Wesley said pushing off from the desk, "I'll see you later."

In the downstairs front lobby, the security guard nodded politely as Wesley strode out the front door and then pressed down the mike button on the radio at his shoulder, "Sir, Mouse has left the building." He heard two clicks in response and then resumed his duties of keeping Wolfram and Hart safe.

Harmony was surprised when Wesley showed up again, not an hour later. The ex-watcher was carrying a plain brown bag with handles and, just peeping out of the top of the bag, she could see a gaily-wrapped box with an extravagant bow. She smiled. She'd heard about him and Fred and she could guess whom he'd gotten the gift for. He smiled like he and Harmony were sharing a secret as he passed. God, he was handsome! She wondered why she'd never really realized that before. Oh well, he was off the market now. Probably for the best, those interspecies relationships never worked out. Too much temptation when she got those middle of the night munchies and then, all that mess to clean up in the morning! Yugh!

Danvers was turning out to be an excellent asset, Winston thought as he settled comfortably into the chair in Wesley's office and leaned back. He twirled himself around in the chair a couple of times, just for fun. Smiling for sheer joy, he snatched up the phone handset and quickly dialed a number, humming softly as it rang. He lightly traced one finger along one of the seams of the prettily wrapped package sitting prominently on the desk in front of him.

"Hello, sir?" said the voice at the other end.

Winston's grin broadened even more, "Hello, this is Pryce. The password is _Evanescence_."

"Right, I knew it was you from your caller I.D. You're calling from your office, sir. This is Hawkins," said the voice. "What do you need?"

Winston's grin grew gleeful as he twirled around again to face the windows and started to talk.

……………………………………….

Angel sat in his limousine watching the chartered jet take off. It'd been hard to say goodbye. It was always hard. Angel sighed deeply. Buffy had made him promise to call if it got too hairy. He wondered if he'd actually keep that promise. He knew her job put her in harm's way; he just hated to be the one who instigated it. He saw the watcher on the tarmac, who'd seen the jet off, start walking to the limo. Angel moved over so he was out of direct sunlight when the door opened and Giles slipped inside.

Giles looked coldly straight ahead and spoke grimly, "All right, she's gone now and it's time you and I had a little heart-to-heart talk."

Angel shifted awkwardly on the seat and looked at the watcher with a certain amount of apprehension at whatever the other man was about to say.

………………………………….

Winston whistled cheerily as he readjusted the gift-wrapped package on Wesley's desk, ensuring that it was perfectly centered and fluffed up the bow. Happily giving the box a gentle pat, he jauntily left Wesley's office. Harmony saw Winston, whom she thought was Wesley, pass her counter still whistling merrily as he headed for the elevators. She had a sudden thought and called out, "Wesley, are you going back out to look at warehouses? I just wondered because, you know, Angel'll probably want to know."

At her words, he stopped and came over to lean nonchalantly against her desk. Looking her up and down appreciatively, he drawled, "Why hello, beautiful!"

She preened, fluffing her hair a little, pleased at his attention, "Wesley! I thought you were dating Fred now?"

He leered slightly, "Does that mean I can't look at the competition?"

She leaned closer, "Of course not. It never hurts to look."

He looked deep into her eyes, glanced down at his watch, and then said regretfully, "Too bad, I really have to go." Moving away from the desk, he called back, "Maybe later, sweetheart."

Harmony thought that if she could still blush she would be by now. She had to admit though, Wesley was definitely hot!

As the doors closed on Winston, he mused that he hadn't really thought that warehouse bit would work. He smirked—all in all, a good day's work.

Harmony answered the phone in a good mood, "Wolfram and Hart. May I help you?"

A pleasant man's voice replied, "Hello, can I speak to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?

"Oh, sorry," she looked at the closed elevator doors, "he just left."

The man's voice sounded frustrated, "Damn, he's just gone to meet us at the apartment. This is Hawkins. I'm a member of his team. We're supposed to meet him in half an hour and I think I got the street address wrong. Can you get in contact with him or maybe you know Cordelia Chase's apartment address?" The man's voice grew hopeful at the end.

"Cordelia? Sure, I know her old address," Harmony rattled off the address and the man thanked her and hung up. Harmony wondered briefly why Wesley would meet anyone at the hospitalized and coma-stricken seer's old apartment. Then she shrugged and sorted through yet another batch of paperwork that arrived for Angel.

Wesley waved perfunctorily to the security guard as he passed within the unhallowed halls of Wolfram and Hart and noted absently that the man was talking into his radio again. The elevator seemed to take forever going up. Wesley had checked out about half his list without any luck and was now looking forward to lunch with Fred. He just had time to check his office to put out any potential fires before they went to a nice little restaurant he knew of nearby.

Harmony came back to her desk after a refreshing, little blood break and saw Wesley disappearing around the corner down the hallway to his office. She started to call after him to tell him about the phone call from Hawkins, but decided that appointment must be over by now or he wouldn't be back. She sure thought he'd be gone a lot more today. She wondered if he would talk to her on his way out again and decided to be around in case he did.

Wesley was surprised at the sight of the gift-wrapped box on his desk. Not bothering to move around the desk, he delicately touched the beautiful bow and slipped out the card tucked under the ribbon. The inscription read, '_For last night_.' He smiled softly as he dropped the card on the desk, so he could tug the ribbon loose and rip open the colorful paper. The door behind him opened and he half turned towards the visitor while lifting the lid of the box (which seemed slightly resistant for a second and then came loose with a click). He smiled at Fred and said with pleasure, "I'm just opening the gift."

Fred smiled back, "What gift?"

He looked at her appalled, his head snapped back to focus on the box, and then he shoved the box towards the chair behind the desk and turned to fling himself at a shocked Fred. Tackling her, they both hit the floor hard and he covered her with his body just as the box exploded with a boom as a blinding light and pieces of shrapnel filled the room. The force of the explosion simultaneously shattered both the outer and inner windows of the office causing a shower of tiny glass shards to rain on the street below and filling the hallway beyond the office with an instantaneous burst of thousands of tiny, sparkling razors-like fragments. There was a cut off scream and then all was quiet.

Below, sitting in one of the Wolfram and Hart limousines outfitted with that vampire-friendly, necrotempered glass and parked outside directly beneath Wesley's office, Winston closed his eyes and listened with pleasure to the musical tinkle of glass striking the roof of the car. Yes, he mused, definitely a very good day's work.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Yes, I am evil. I moved from one cliff hanger to another. Mwaa-ha-ha-ha. Hope you folks like it! Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! MidnightzStorm (cool name!)-Yes, cliff hanger! See note above (Tee hee hee). Thank you for the three reviews and birthday best wishes! Glad to be back myself. Shahid-Hope you and yours are doing okay, sorry about the slow chapter last time, hope you like this one better, is there enough action in this one? Danielle-new reader (Hoody-hoo!), you may say all the nice things you want, thanks for the review! I actually incorporated the mind-wipe into the story, I just explained it—which is more than the show ever did (if you want to know, it's explained in the intro to chapter 1), I agree about the W/F relationship, one of my pet peeves was the strange way they finally made them a couple and I tried to make the relationship make more sense and develop more naturally in my story.

To everyone who is reading and not reviewing—please review, I'd love to hear what you think. In any case, hope you're enjoying it! Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy flight!


	16. Burned

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Sixteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Fred was floating in darkness, but a great weight pressed her down as her consciousness rose. Finally, fully awake, Fred struggled to get out from underneath Wesley's dead weight amid the bits of glass and plaster that covered the floor. He wasn't moving and, although she called his name frantically, she could barely hear herself over the ringing in her ears. Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of her and she saw Gunn's worried expression as he gently rolled Wesley over and laid him back down. Blood was dripping along the side of Wesley's loosely lolling head and he appeared unconscious.

A light haze of white powdered dust filled the room, which caused her to cough and also lightly coated both men, giving them a pale, ghost-like appearance. A blood splattered vent cover and chunks of plaster from the ceiling lay on the floor beside her. The desk apparently took the brunt of the explosion and was blown over upside down by the force of the explosion. The drawer-side of it was reduced to kindling and a flicker of flame was growing slowly in the center looking a little like a fireplace. The remains of the chair were exposed behind the desk. The back of the chair was gone; but surprisingly, the bottom of the chair was still there with the bottom half of the gift box still resting on it. Some of the wrapping paper had survived and a small, connected strand was on fire making the whole array look incongruously like a strange birthday candle on a demented cake.

Gunn's face looked concerned as he said something about her bleeding, she couldn't catch all of it, and he touched the side of her face to show her the blood that was on it. She didn't feel hurt and she shook her head no as she sat up.

Scrambling over to Wesley, she was pleased to see his chest heave suddenly as he coughed and she helped him as he struggled to raise himself on his elbows. He reached to touch her face and she brushed some of the blood that was threatening to drip into his eyes from his forehead with her plaster-whitened hand. They both looked searchingly into each other's eyes as they sought reassurance and were mutually relieved by what they saw. The ringing had dulled to a buzz and she could just barely hear Wesley ask shakily if she was all right. Deciding that he probably couldn't hear any better than her, she nodded yes and she and Gunn helped him to stand and unsteadily move out of the room.

Lying in the hallway, beneath the shattered window, was a woman. Who she might be was uncertain as her upper body and face were shredded beyond recognition leaving a splatter of blood on the far wall like some kind of bizarre, horrific, abstract painting. The trio stopped at the sight and then moved slowly around her, leaving behind the devastation, but not its effects.

………………………………

Ben Gunnerson was a member of the team formerly headed by Danvers and the best damn explosives expert Wolfram and Hart had available. He didn't mind the Brit twit getting blown up, but Ben didn't feel like losing a hand to any secondary devices meant for the jerk. He was getting too old for this job and the gradually growing realization of mortality was weighing him down and interfering with the inhuman clockwork precision expected of Wolfram and Hart employees.

After taking a moment to still his shaking hands, he gently lifted a piece of ceiling plaster off of the remains of the box and softly pushed aside some ashy gunk to get a better look inside. Hearing a click, he threw himself backwards flinging his hands in front of his face in fright. A tinny, circus-like tune played, then there was a whooshing noise, and a puff spit out a jet of multi-colored confetti into the air giving the room a ghastly Tim Burton-engineered, party-like appearance. When nothing else happened, Ben cautiously looked in the box and saw with incredulity what was inside. Sitting back, Ben sighed and reflected that the only good thing about the recent change in management was that quitting probably wasn't the death-defying act it used to be and that he really was getting too old for this job.

………………………………………

"A dead mouse!" Wesley looked inside the remains of the gift box again in disbelief. Fred, sitting next to him on the couch in Angel's office and tightly holding his hand, leaned forward to peer in the box too. Inside the bottom of the box rested a remarkably undamaged, yet dead, white mouse lying on its side. The pair looked at each other grimly and sat back in unison. Each bore a small bandage, Fred on her cheek and Wesley on his forehead near the hairline.

"You told me yourself that your brother refers to you as mouse," Angel said from his position settled on a corner of his desk.

"Yes, I'm sure this is my brother's idea of a practical joke. Not particularly funny for Miss Simpson," Wesley replied bleakly. "Did she have any family? Have they been notified?"

"I checked," Gunn said sadly, "apparently, Wolfram and Hart was her life. No family, no friends. Just a cat," He added as an afterthought, "One of the steno pool is going to take it."

"Well, isn't that nice and neat, all wrapped up like it never happened," sarcasm and anger warred with each other in Wesley's voice, "Just another typical day at Wolfram and Hart." Fred squeezed his hand and he looked at her and sighed, "So how did the package get into my office anyway?"

Harmony had entered to place a stack of documents on Angel's desk and spoke up absently as she neatened up the stack, "You brought it in." She started to walk out as everyone gaped at her.

Angel pushed himself up off the desk, grabbed her arm, and said aggressively, "What do you mean, 'Wesley brought it in?'"

Harmony looked at Angel surprised, "He brought it in about a hour after he left to look at warehouses."

Wesley stood angrily, "That wasn't me! It had to be Winston. How did he get in the building?"

Harmony said, mildly interested, "He's, like, a vampire, isn't he? You'd think the unauthorized vampire detectors would go off like crazy." Then, like a 10 watt light bulb going off, her face showed a revelation, "Hey! That explains why Wesley seemed so hot!" Her face showed a little relief, "I mean, I didn't think I could go for a boring human." Wesley clenched his teeth and started grimly towards the door when Harmony added curiously, "So, was it you or Winston meeting those people at Cordelia's apartment?"

Wesley stopped in his tracks and turned slowly. He spoke with misleading mildness, but there was an edge in the tone, "People? What people, Harmony?" Fred thought she had never seen him look more like his father before. His voice was quiet, too quiet and Harmony didn't like the slightly downward tilt of his head or the glittering intensity of his gaze as he approached her. Harmony backed up involuntarily and ran into the solid bulk of Angel's chest. Looking back, she saw he was glaring. She said plaintively, "What! What did I say?" as she gulped and looked back and forth between the two men nervously, while Angel and Wesley closed in on either side of her, a determined look mirrored on their faces.

…………………………………

Wesley and Angel stood outside the door of Cordelia's old apartment a little uncertainly. Gunn and Fred were standing by with a security team in three black vans on the street below primed to response on an instant's notice. But it had been a long time since the so-called appointment and Angel didn't want to draw a lot of attention if there wasn't any need.

Angel listened at Cordelia's old apartment door, "I don't hear anybody."

Wesley nodded and inserted and turned the key in the door as Angel asked quietly, "You took over Cordy's apartment after we let it go?"

Wesley said unexpectedly, "Actually, you did." Then Wesley waved dismissively at Angel's startled look, not really interested in discussing the subject at the moment, and pushed at the door, but the door pushed back. "Dennis," he said to the ghost in exasperation, "Stop it! Please let us in!"

Wesley pushed again and the door resisted for a moment and then gave way. Wesley saw bodies lying all over the floor. He exclaimed, and started to enter and the door slammed his body pinning him against the doorframe. Wesley grunted in surprise and painfully strained to free himself, crying out "Dennis!" Angel, using both hands, shoved hard and Wesley was able to slip free.

The ghost, who'd been such a friend to Cordelia when she lived here, apparently gave up at that point and the door gave way, causing Angel to stumble into the room and barely keep his balance.

Wesley moved past the dead to briefly check out the rest of the apartment while Angel remained tensely poised at the door, ready to move in any direction if a threat should appear. Finding the apartment empty, Wesley nodded bleakly to Angel that it was clear and kneeled over Hawkins' body—his throat was torn out, but his face was covered by a small towel. Scattered around the room were the five other members of his now dead team. Each had a rag or small towel of some kind discretely covering their faces; however, that couldn't hide the blatant violence of their deaths. They'd put up a fight, but the element of surprise had apparently left them practically defenseless. The room was a mess; blood was splattered everywhere and furniture and small articles were strewn across the floor. The disconnected phone hit Wesley in the back. He winced and stood, protesting, "Dennis, I didn't do this." The phone rose in the air threateningly and Wesley stood still, just watching warily.

Angel spoke out, "He's telling the truth, Dennis. It was someone who looked like him." The phone dropped, ringing at the impact. Then the coffee table rocked back and forth slightly.

The table was upside down and leaning against the sofa. A pair of bare woman's legs peeked out from beyond the end of the table. Wesley grimaced; that would be Diane, his office manager. Angel, who'd stayed by the front door silently surveying the massacre, started suddenly and raced to the table, "There's someone alive under here! I can hear their heartbeat!"

Flinging the table aside, both men checked the bloodied, but incredibly pale, middle-aged, motherly-looking woman and finding her alive, Wesley gently, but firmly, applied pressure against the towel that was already lying against the two tiny wounds and tried to staunch the flow of blood pulsing weakly out of her neck. Part of her chest was unnaturally crushed; the dent rising painfully as she tried to breath. Her eyes opened and she slowly focused on Wesley, "We t-t-thought i-it was you." She coughed wetly and blood came out of her mouth. Wesley urged, "Hang on, we'll get an ambulance. You'll be all right." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone to call, but Angel's hand folded Wesley's phone before he could make the call. Angel said regretfully, "I'm sorry, Wes. She's dead."

Wesley looked at her and said unbelieving, "No, no, I can…call. I can…" He stood abruptly, looked around, his face wooden, and said shortly, "Can you handle this for me, Angel. I have to go kill someone—a lot."

He stalked towards the door and Angel grabbed him and cried out, "Didn't you learn anything from the past couple of years! We need to work together. Working separately is when we make the most mistakes."

Wesley said calmly, a little too calmly, "You mean like when we fought the beast and Jasmine?"

Angel hedged a little, "Yeah, well, those might not be the best examples, but we all work best together. We've been distracted lately with the slayers and everything. We just need to get down to business and make this our first priority—our only priority, until it's finished."

Wesley looked around the blood-soaked room and then the two men looked at each other. Finally, Wesley took a deep breath and nodded shortly in agreement, "So what's the first step?"

Angel pulled out his cell phone, "I'll call for someone to clean this up and take the bodies somewhere until you can decide what arrangements to make and you can call Gunn and Fred and tell them what happened."

Wesley nodded again and pulled out his cell phone, but Angel had a sudden thought, "Wait a minute, Wes, how did Winston get in without an invitation?"

Wesley thought for a moment, "Well, your name is on the lease, although technically Dennis may be the actual owner of the apartment for these purposes. In either case, you're both dead and the dead can't prevent entrance to an abode. Which is actually a scary thought if you think how long Cordelia lived here."

"No, I don't think vampires could get in here when Cordelia lived here," Angel looked around. "How exactly did I sign the lease for this place, Wes?"

Wesley sighed in aggravation, "You really need to read carefully everything you sign, Angel. It was one of the first documents I put in front of your face for signature. I thought we might as well have Cordelia's place ready for when she wakes up."

Angel smiled, "Good thinking, and I do read everything I sign, except for the stuff you give me. I trust you, so I just sign it."

Wesley looked briefly startled and then grateful for the trust; however, he rapidly pulled himself up and reminded Angel, "What was that about 'our only priority?'"

Angel looked down at his phone and said, "Oh, right." Then he started to dial a number. Wesley started dialing too when Angel said apologetically, "Uh, Wes, can I use your phone? Mine's, uh, out of power."

Wesley gave up his phone in resignation and headed to the door saying a little archly, "I'll go _tell_ Fred and Gunn what happened." Angel nodded, a little embarrassed, while he followed more slowly and talked on the phone. The door swung softly open on its own as Wesley approached and he stopped to look searchingly around the room, "Thank you, Dennis. I know you tried to help. I suspect any chance Diane or any of them had was because of you." The door waggled gently back and forth and then opened wide. Wesley said, "I'll get him, Dennis." He walked out and repeated more quietly with resolve, "I'll get him."

Angel stopped at the door watching Wesley disappear down the corridor and then looked back into the room, "_We'll_ get him, Dennis." He thought for a second and pulled out a card and laid it on a small side table, "I'll get the phone reconnected. Just call me and thump something three times if he comes back." He paused for a second, and then continued, the underlying emotion apparent in his voice, "She's still in a coma, but we're doing everything we can to help her. If anything changes, I'll let you know." He looked around again, "See you later, Dennis." Angel walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The disconnected phone lifted off the floor and settled on the little side table, the handle was placed gently back on the phone base, and the phone cord slipped into the phone with a click. Then a rag lifted and dropped reverently onto the dead woman's face and the room was quiet.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review—you nice people you! shahid-in order to fit this in to my busy life, I'm updating every two weeks; however, since all three of you asked for it, I'm going to update next Friday in honor of Thanksgiving to thank you for reviewing; Midnight Storm-no cliffhanger this time, but more will come (see shahid's note); t87gan-new reviewer! Thank you very much! (see shahid's note). Happy holidays!


	17. A Question of Focus

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Seventeen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Back in Angel's conference room, the group sat quietly around the table. Angel looked around the room curiously, "Where's Lorne?"

Gunn answered, "Not sure, he's been pretty scarce lately. Maybe he's working some big entertainment deal or something. All I get is his voice mail when I call him."

Angel looked briefly at Wesley, who was standing by the necrotempered windows tensely looking out at the darkened city, and then shrugged, "Well, have Harmony keep trying to get him. We'll update him later. We should probably get started." Looking again at Wesley, he attempted to get his attention, "Wesley?"

Wesley didn't seem to hear as he looked out at the spectacular view of Los Angeles without really seeing it. Fred moved over to him and touched his arm, speaking softly, "It wasn't your fault." He looked at her and the fury in his eyes surprised her, but she knew it wasn't directed at her. She pressed him, "What?"

The anger was suppressed, but still there as he answered, "Winston is just playing us! He timed all this perfectly. How did he know Angel and I were both out? How did he know the password to get my team to meet him? How did he get into Wolfram and Hart? How?" Wesley slammed his hand against the glass angrily and then leaned his forehead against the window in frustration.

Gunn said thoughtfully, "You know, those are good questions. Who would know all that stuff? When did you use that password, Wes?"

Wesley rolled his head sideways as he considered the man's question and then lifted himself away from the glass to look at Gunn, "I've only used it twice, once to tell my team the password and again when they called me to let me know about the meeting with Winston."

Gunn asked, "Which phone did you use?"

Wesley deliberated, "The first time, you gave me a cell phone while I was in the medical center getting my ribs checked, and the second time, I used my office phone."

Gunn pulled out his phone and looked at it, "Well, my phone should be okay. I'm pretty sure it wasn't out of my sight up to that point. Maybe we should have your office phone checked? Although, I thought security did sweeps of the building on some kind of regular basis."

Angel interjected, "We'll get them both checked out anyway."

Fred leaned on the table next to Angel and added, "Maybe we should get all our office and cell phones checked."

Wesley added, "Perhaps you should supervise that operation, Fred. It's possible we have some kind of leak in security. We can't really be sure unless one of us oversees the work and you're the one best qualified to notice if something isn't right."

Angel looked inquiringly at Fred for her opinion. She seemed thoughtful, but nodded her agreement. Angel concurred and then Fred said suddenly, "Security!"

"What?" Angel asked confused, but recognizing that the young woman had gotten an idea.

Fred, excited now, continued, "Security! Who do we know who could have tapped our phones? Who worked in security?"

Wesley caught on, "Danvers!"

Angel said more grimly, "Danvers."

………………………………………………

After the meeting, Angel went to gear up. The team had decided that Gunn would check on the whereabouts of Danvers, while Angel and Wesley checked out the rest of the list of warehouses. Wesley waited for Angel in the conference room, looking out the window again, as Fred approached him once more, "I'm going to have a complete sweep done of our offices and phones." She rubbed his back and reached around to hug him, but he moved away unexpectedly.

He spoke reluctantly, but forcefully, "Fred, we need…to wait. I...I need to focus on Winston. I keep letting distractions stop me from doing what I have to do." He looked at her apologetically, hoping she'd understand."

She said seriously, "Is that what I am? Am I a distraction?"

He cupped her face lovingly and replied just as seriously, "No, you are the most important thing in my life. But I can't get on with my life until I deal with Winston."

"Then," she said as she lightly traced his bandage and the side of his face, "it'll be worth waiting for. Just remember, I'm around—_we're all around_ to help—if you'll let us."

"Like any of you would let me forget," Wesley answered smiling softly. "I plan to make this a team effort."

"Winston'll never know what hit him," she smiled back.

"Not if he's lucky," said Wesley somewhat darkly and started to kiss her briefly and then, both unwilling to part, they deepened the kiss hungrily only parting finally so they could rest their foreheads together as they both panted jaggedly.

Fred said softly and a little breathlessly, "What was that plan of yours again?" She tilted her head to one side and smiled mischievously.

Wesley cleared his throat, smiled weakly, and replied equally breathless, "Incorrigible imp!" He restrained himself from leaning back into her inviting lips again and reluctantly drew away, breaking eye contact with difficultly before striding away purposefully to find Angel.

Fred touched her lips lightly in wonder, still able to feel the effects of the kiss, and lost momentarily in the swirl of emotions that surrounded the lingering presence. Some of what she was feeling was visible and flitted over her face, finally focusing past the more tender strands of feeling and hardening into determination, as she abruptly walked over to the conference table and pressed the intercom, "Harmony?"

"Uh, hi Fred," said the vampiric secretary tentatively.

Fred spoke with an unusual amount of grim resolve in her voice, "Have the current head of security, the electronics sweep team, and Knox meet me in Angel's conference room right now. We've got some work to do," At Harmony's affirmative reply, Fred snapped off the intercom and pronounced with quiet determination to the empty room, "Look out, Winston, here we come."

……………………………………….

Angel leaned the long duffel bag containing various medieval weaponry he was carrying against the elevator wall as the doors closed, "I figured it would be easier checking out these warehouses if we didn't have to find parking or actually have to physically check out each location, so I have a driver and the electronic surveillance van waiting out front—we might even have an electronic technician working with us that isn't working against us."

Wesley gave a small snort of ironic amusement and then sighed deeply, shifting his smaller gym bag (also containing weaponry) to a more comfortable position, "I should have thought of organizing the van, Angel. I'm a little…," Wesley smiled ruefully, "distracted."

"Hey, we're a team," Angel said lightly. The duffle bag started to slip over. "It's been a rough day," Angel continued as he reached out to bring the bag back over his shoulder. The elevator reached the lobby floor and both men moved out and past the security post. The Wolfram and Hart security guard nodded to Angel and then reached up to his radio speaking softly. Angel frowned and unexpectedly leaped over to the startled guard, slamming the uniformed man against the wall and raising him up by a fistful of collar. The man gasped, his legs flailing and hands clutching futilely at the steel grasp holding him in place.

Wesley, equally startled, moved over to Angel and looked at the security guard, "What in the world is going on, Angel?"

Angel, spying the man's nametag, said through clenched teeth, "Morgan here, just said something about '_Mouse._' Wanna explain that to me, Morgan?"

Morgan gasped incoherently, his face growing red, as he continued to attempt to break free.

Wesley's confused look hardened into anger, "He's been on the radio every time I've come by." Wesley touched Angel's arm and said in a mild tone, "Put him down, Angel. I'd like to give him a personal demonstration of some of the damage done to my team and Miss Simpson." Wesley's bleak eyes slowly moved up to meet Morgan's and the security guard blenched at the unspeakable promise in their pitiless depths.

Angel momentarily gaped in shock at Wesley, re-gathered his composure, and then looked at Morgan, "Well, Morgan, what's it going to be? Talk now or…," Angel jerked his head meaningfully at Wesley, "talk later?"

Wesley added softly, "Much, much later." He made a fist and there was a _snick_ as an enormous knife blade—razor-sharp and shimmering—slid out from underneath his jacket sleeve.

Morgan's eyes widened and he began to babble, the words "Danvers" and "Winston" clear in the mostly incoherent mess. A stain appeared between the man's legs and liquid dribbled out his pants legs.

Angel looked down grimacing, "What is it with you guys? Are all the security guards at Wolfram and Hart wusses?" He let the man down and dragged him stumbling to the elevator, Wesley following grimly. As they waited for the elevator, Angel eyed Wesley warily, "I thought I was supposed to play bad cop?"

"Never hurts to keep them guessing," Wesley said blandly, then he quirked up an eyebrow and looked rather grimly at Angel, "Anyway, who said I was playing?"

Angel looked disconcerted, "You know, you're getting downright scary. Where did you learn how to do that?"

Wesley answered calmly, "I've had a few teachers."

The two men looked at each other for a moment in the awkward silence until it was interrupted by the ding of the elevator bell. The doors slid smoothly open and two open-mouthed, wide-eyed, expensively dressed lawyers skated past cautiously and hurried away fearfully. Wesley stepped in and Angel shook his head, a little disturbed as he dragged the guard in, "You'd make a great vampire, Wes."

Wesley said simply, "Let's never test that theory."

Angel assented, "Good plan." Then Angel shouted across the tastefully appointed, open space of the lobby, his voice echoing off the marbled walls; the receptionist jumped out of her seat in fear: "Call housekeeping and get that mess cleaned up and get a new security guard on duty." In a more conversational voice, he said, "I think we'll continue this conversation in one of the holding cells." Then he muttered under his breath, "I'm sure not taking him to my office. I just got the carpet replaced from the last security guard."

Wesley smirked.

Morgan saw and cringed.

…………………………………

Wesley and Angel stood side by side in the newly kicked open doorway. The three security guards inside were each wearing a headset and sitting in front of a row of TV monitors depicting each of the Fang gang's offices and the main conference room. All three looked shocked at the violent entrance. Angel spoke threateningly, "We've got a message from Morgan, boys. Game over." One of the three tried to pull a gun and Wesley lifted his arm shooting a stake from the device hidden under his sleeve causing the gun to fly across the room and pinning the man's hand against the wall. Over the man's gasps and frantic efforts to free his hand, Angel warned, "Anymore and I'll snap all your necks!" The one who'd drawn a weapon fruitlessly, cradled his pinned hand in obvious pain and cowered. The others wilted in place and raised their hands meekly in surrender.

………………………………….

They hadn't learned as much as they'd wanted from the former security guards. Danvers was apparently working for Winston now and had subverted a few other Wolfram and Hart alumni. The phone number the guards called to pass on information to Winston ironically turned out to be Wesley's old cell phone. Fred had the Wolfram and Hart Security Department (who were pathetically anxious to prove their 'loyalty' and worth) attempting to trace the cell phone if it was used. They had reported Fred's electronic sweep of the offices but missed Morgan's capture. Twelve other traitors were exposed: eight more security personnel, one demon from Ritual Sacrifice (who Angel happily sacrificed without ceremony), two technicians (human) who were part of the electronics sweep team, and one suit (with a vampire in it) from contracting (who Angel again happily dusted after questioning proved fruitless). Killing off the demon conspirators both helped Angel restrain himself with the humans and encouraged the humans to (quite happily…or at least freely) talk. The humans were interrogated, strip searched, and dumped in holding cells to miserably await their fate in the hands of the new management. Fred's well-supervised sweep discovered the bugs and cameras that the secret monitoring set-up had placed. Fortunately the traitorous team's attention was focused on her activities when Angel and Wesley were closing in on them.

After dealing with the remaining details of the internal security issue, Wesley strode down the hallway to meet Angel once again. It was time to check out the warehouses. He slowed when he approached the reception area in front of Angel's office, as he saw Lorne, Faith, Fred, and Angel together talking.

Lorne's voice was animated, "So, they're gone, right?" He kept looking around as though he expected teen slayers to pop out of the woodwork.

Faith smiled, amused, "Yeah, guy, they're gone. Why were you hiding from them?"

"Hey, I was afraid for my life! All those slayers and little green target me!" the psychic demon exclaimed.

Faith, confused, asked, "What ya' talking about, Lorne? You passed out clothes, electronic goodies, and overnight bags the minute we hit the hotel. Those girls were happily listening to music and text messaging like crazy ten minutes after we got here. You were, like, the most popular being on the planet as far as they were concerned."

"That's the problem, sweetie," Lorne explained, "I got a little too popular. Some idiotic Wolfram and Hart lackey, who was thinking with his pants (which I have since duly kicked by the way), bragged about his duties as my new assistant and those girls suddenly decided I was _the_ 'golden ticket' to the chocolate factory, and incidentally to every boy band heart throb they ever wanted to meet! Their list was longer than my arm—Jessie McCartney, Orlando Bloom, Justin Timberlake, and on and on. Oh, and one strangely deluded girl who wanted Liberace." Fred giggled.

"Isn't he dead?" Angel asked curiously.

"Well, that isn't as big a problem as you might think it would be, actually," Lorne said sighing, "The biggest problem is that he signed with the opposing firm." Fred covered her mouth as she tried to stop from laughing aloud. Lorne frowned at her, "Really, pumpkin, show some sympathy."

Faith was amused, "Who's Liberace?"

Lorne grimaced, "He was a piano player who did Vegas a lot. Not a bad entertainer, but a little too ostentatious for my taste." _Lorne was wearing a neon orange suit with wide lapels, a lime green shirt, and a banana yellow tie._ Fred burst out laughing and hurried away, patting Wesley on the sleeve gently as she passed. He watched her, her shoulders heaving as she moved down the corridor while she tried to restrain her laughter. Unexpectedly, her laughter grew louder the farther she got, and they could hear her long after she had turned the corner until it finally faded into the distance.

Wesley looked down the empty corridor for a few seconds and then turned back to face Lorne again. Wesley's face was carefully bland. Faith started to giggle.

"Really!" Lorne continued, annoyed, "You people have no idea what I've been going through! I've been finding teenaged girls everywhere—in my office, my limousine, they invaded my favorite bar (Julio the bouncer won't even speak to me anymore!), I couldn't even go to the bathroom (boy, _that_ was embarrassing), and you couldn't imagine what happened when I opened the…well let's just say I didn't know people could contort themselves into spaces that small, … oh, and one poor, hormone-driven thing climbed the outside of my apartment building and hung by her fingers from my ledge _for two hours_ unable to get past my sanctuary spell. Luckily I feed my pigeons, George and Gracie, every day or I might have had a slayer pancake on my front stoop!" Faith snorted and Angel suddenly found the need to cough.

"You know, I like to make everyone happy, but that was too much," Lorne griped.

Angel said a little too innocently, "I always though you were a little like Liberace, Lorne."

Faith was grinning as she looked back and forth from one to the other.

Lorne squawked, "Oh, puleeze! I like to show a little class in my outfits. Liberace got to the point that you couldn't see his face for all that fur!"

Faith offered up helpfully, repressing laughter as she spoke, "Hey, I always thought Lorne was like that Julie on 'Love Boat.'"

Angel was surprised, "'Love Boat?' I wouldn't think you'd even know that show."

Faith explained, "Oh, I saw it in prison. Old TV is part of the punishment or something." Wesley covered his face for a moment with his hand as he shook his head.

Lorne was trying to place her reference and suddenly got it, "Oh! Oh! Julie! I love her! Acting as host on the ship, meeting all those different people, trying to help folks with their destinies…" Faith could no longer contain her mirth. She burst out laughing and swayed as she stumbled down the same corridor Fred had traveled and turned the corner.

The men looked down the corridor the two women had escaped down and then at each other. Lorne, finally thoroughly disgusted, said plaintively, "I don't get any respect." He stalked off irritably to sulk in his office.

Wesley moved up to Angel and they looked at each other amused.

Wesley asked mildly, "So, Angel, how does this fit into your idea of focusing everything on getting Winston?" He looked at Angel inquiringly.

"Hey, Wes," Angel clasped Wesley's shoulder for a moment and explained, "Good times, good people, there are never enough of them. You gotta cherish the little moments." He squeezed Wes's shoulder and then let go to move towards the elevators.

Wesley seriously considered Angel's words and then smiling a little, nodded in understanding as he followed his friend.

…………………………………….

"Yes, sir," Danvers said convincing gusto, "I know exactly where Winston is and if you're quick, you'll get there before Angel's group even knows about the location."

Roger Wyndam-Pryce smiled coldly; things were finally coming together.

…………………………………

Emil shook hands with Winston, "Wolfram and Hart told me not to work with the Watchers. They didn't say anything about not helping you. I think I have just what you need."

Winston Wyndam-Pryce smiled gleefully; things were finally coming together.

……………………………………

To be continued…

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving all! Next update in two weeks. Thanks to my reviewers: Midnight Storm-very glad you're enjoying it (thank you for taking the time to keep reviewing); two new reviewers (Yea!) Sonar-thank you, especially nice if you're only up to chapter eight, but in any case thanks!; -J- thanks for the long review, I see what you're saying about Angel and Wes, I was just so annoyed that they never really talked that I tried to put what I wish they'd said in my story, of course, their ability to really talk out the issue is impossible because Wes doesn't remember Connor (however, I'm very happy for my writing to be characterized as a less jaded Jossverse-yea me!). Thanks very much for the nice words, you obviously thought about it a lot. Hope you enjoy the rest!


	18. Three Strikes and You're Out

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Eighteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Author's Note: I hope I didn't confuse anybody by throwing in an update over Thanksgiving. The next update should be in two weeks from now. Take care!_

Hey, ya' know I'll do it! I'm all about keepin' his skinny ass safe," Faith smiled at Fred and the two women shook hands in complete agreement.

………………………………

The search of the list of warehouses on Wesley's list turned out to be more difficult than Wesley or Angel anticipated. Wesley had systematically eliminated about half the list before by selecting geographically close locations; however, the other half of the list turned out to be scattered throughout the huge, traffic-challenged city. Areas as diverse as various wharfs and the mountains (and everywhere in-between) were on the list. If that didn't make it difficult enough, some of the locations weren't accessible to discrete monitoring with the van. Angel and Wesley crawled through several warehouses, and listened futilely to several others, trying to surreptitiously find Winston's hideout. After finishing about half the locations left on the list, the two men returned to Wolfram and Hart dirty, discouraged, and dead beat. As the elevator doors opened on the reception area leading to Angel's office, Faith was leaning against Harmony's counter while the vampire secretary nervously worked on Angel's paperwork next to the vampire slayer.

"Bout time you boys were back. I was running out of small talk with blondie here," Faith looked at Harmony (who smiled weakly). "It was a hoot trying to call you from Fred's lab and having your cell phone ring on the counter next to me. By the way, what's up with your phone ringer playing the music from 'Psycho' when I call you?" She smirked, waggling the phone displaying it for viewing and then threw it across the lobby at the man moving towards her, Angel behind him repressing a smile.

Wesley caught it easily in one hand and put it in his jacket pocket, "Lorne set up my new phone. I assume it's a joke. That also explains why the old 'Batman' series theme song plays when Angel calls."

"Hey!" Angel called out in chagrin at Wesley who shrugged in denial.

Exhaustion apparent, Wesley focused back on Faith, "Fred had all our phones because she was checking them all for bugs. Did you need something, Faith," Wesley inquired tiredly as he moved up and put his weapons bag on the counter.

Faith mock-punched Wesley's arm with a grin, "Hey, I heard you need someone to watch your back."

Wesley rejoined sardonically, "I thought _I _was supposed to be _your_ watcher?"

Faith, "I got these orders from the big cheese direct."

Wesley looked at Angel in surprise, "Angel told you to watch me!" Angel shrugged indicating his complete ignorance.

Faith shoved Wesley on the shoulder, "Of course not, ya' big doofus. It was Fred. She and me got this thing goin' about tryin' to keep you alive long enough for you to finish negotiatin' with her," Faith waggled her eyebrows up and down suggestively. "However, she also said if I turned out to be a 'distraction,' she'd rip my heart out through my eyeballs…which was a really strange thing to say, but I think I got her point." Faith cuddled up to Wesley's side, hugging his arm, smirked and drawled, "Told ya' we could make her jealous."

Wesley scowled at Faith as he peeled her off his arm and gathered his bag again, "There really isn't any need to make her jealous, Faith, and since I'm going to bed, I think watching my back might be a little premature."

Faith smirked, "Yeah, watching your back there might qualify as being a 'distraction.' Don't wanna get my lungs ripped out." She dramatically hugged her chest and chuckled as she walked toward the elevator. She turned after she poked the button, "Hey, Watcher-man." Wesley turned, a little irritated. Faith said perfectly serious, "Tomorrow, you and me, right?"

Wesley sighed and gave a little half-smile, "Yes, Faith, you and me." She nodded and entered the elevator pointing her finger like a gun and winking. Wesley shook his head in resignation and moved on towards his office.

Before Wesley could get there, Gunn stopped him in the hallway, "Hey Wes, any luck with the warehouses? You know I want to be in on the action if you find any?"

Wesley nodded his assent, "Sorry, nothing yet. You know you'll be there when we do. How about on your end? Anything on Danvers?"

Gunn looked disgusted, "Naw, I haven't found Danvers yet and even worse, three other members of Danvers' old special ops team are missing. If they enter the building, they'll get taken to a holding cell like the others. By the way, what's Angel gonna do with all those guys he has in holding?"

Wesley smiled coldly, "Angel is working that out with Eve. I expect we'll hear something soon."

"That should be interesting." Gunn yawned and waved , "See you later, there's a pillow waitin' with my name on it after I brief Angel."

Wes sighed, "Me too. I'm just going to check in at my office first," and moved on to his office.

………………………….

Wesley quietly drank the coffee his assistant had found for him as he stood by his window looking out at the beginnings of a dawn rising over the skyscraper skyline, various lights of the city still twinkling in competition but soon to be overcome by the coming daylight. He probably shouldn't have a coffee, it would just keep him awake, but he was so tired that he didn't think he could sleep, at least not right away.

The office had been repaired with rather amazing speed. A visitor wouldn't be able to tell that a woman had just died outside in the hallway. Apparently, money still talked, even evil money. Depressed, Wesley took another sip of the coffee.

Giles spoke unexpectedly behind him, "It's actually quite astonishing how much you've changed, Wesley." Wesley turned to look at Giles. Giles stood in the doorway, his head was still neatly bandaged from the Hyperion attack and his hands were stuffed in his pockets casually as he contemplated the man by the window.

Wesley crossed his arms and leaned back against the cool pane of glass, "Yes, well, as I already said to Faith, I dare say we've all changed."

Giles crossed the room to stand next to Wesley, "Of course, you're right. However, I don't remotely imagine there is anyone who knew you in Sunnydale, or England for that matter, that would suppose you could turn into the manner of man you are now." Giles looked out at the twinkling lights of skyscrapers creating an irregular horizon against the backdrop of dawn over the city. Giles spoke reflectively, "I'd ask you to consider rejoining the council, but I already know how you'd respond."

Wesley stood up straight, momentarily astonished, and then turned to face the window again and replied, "Besides the fact that the council doesn't really exist anymore, regardless of what you and my father say, you're quite right, I have obligations here and couldn't consider leaving." He hesitated for a second and then looking at Giles he continued gratefully, "But you can't know what it means to me for you to ask."

Giles glanced over at the other man, "Actually, there is a council. The flag still flies—it's just a bit tattered. Mind you, it'll be quite a job of work. I'll be joining the rest in England soon and we'll have to start to sort it there." Giles seemed to think for a minute and then took his hands out of his pockets and faced Wesley, "I know you wouldn't contemplate leaving here, but what if you didn't have to leave?"

Wesley surprise was clear in his voice, "What on earth do you mean?"

Giles spoke bluntly, "I quite simply don't trust Angel and I especially don't trust Wolfram and Hart. I think the only souled vampire on the planet who claims to be a champion for good, who also happens to work for evil incarnate's representatives, could use a watcher. What do you think?"

Wesley stiffened and abruptly turned back to the window, "I could never do that. I couldn't betray Angel and spy on him."

Giles eyed the man carefully, "That's odd. Angel thought you were just the man for the job."

"What?" Wesley's dismay and shock were unmistakable.

Giles made it clear, "I told Angel I didn't trust this arrangement he'd made with Wolfram and Hart and told him I thought he should have a watcher. He said he already had one. But he was perfectly happy with the idea of you being reinstated so the position could be official. He said" Giles emphasized the words, "'there wasn't anyone he would trust more to do the right thing no matter what the cost.' Now that I've seen you in action, I couldn't agree more."

Wesley was speechless, he opened and closed his mouth several times while he tried to find words to express the chaotic thoughts jostling each other for the foremost spot in his brain. Giles smiled, amused at the other man's complete loss of composure. For the first time since they'd arrived in Los Angeles Giles saw a hint of the man he'd been forced to work with while in Sunnydale, he smiled and said teasing, "Get a grip, man."

Wesley suddenly realizing how ridiculous he looked, snapped his mouth shut, looked out into the darkness again, and said, "I'll have to check with Angel first."

Giles said serenely, "You do that."

Wesley looked inquiringly at Giles, "Exactly how much do you like my sister?"

Giles looked confused and then grasped the other's meaning and smiled, "Rather a lot, actually. I have a date for lunch with her tomorrow. But this has nothing to do with that. I'd never offer this to the man in Sunnydale but I have no qualms offering it to the man I've met here. Too many lives depend on us to do it any other way."

Wesley considered for a moment, "It's Faith's theory that the best watchers grow into the job." Giles smiled in amusement. Wesley smiled back and held out his hand. Giles smile grew and he took the offered hand and shook it.

Wesley's cell phone rang and Wesley nodded his apology, which Giles waved off in understanding. Wesley flipped open the phone, "Hello?...Oh, Mary, nice to hear fro..." Wesley paused to listen. Giles looked up in interest at the first mention of her name and then grew concerned at the change in Wesley's manner. Wesley's growing apprehension was apparent as he spoke intensely, "He _what_?...Mary, listen, Danvers is working for Winston…Yes, I'm sure. Where are they going?...Yes, call me as soon as you find out. Goodbye." Wesley snapped the phone closed and started heading towards the door.

"Wesley, what is it? Giles asked in alarm.

"My father was approached by Danvers who offered to give up Winston's location. Danvers used to work here and was fired because he told father about the Hyperion attack. We recently found out a plot Danvers orchestrated for Winston involving several Wolfram and Hart employees. Father and the others of his group are walking into a trap right now."

Giles remembered the conversation he'd overheard, "It sounds like Mary doesn't know where they are going? Is that right?"

Wesley again starting moving towards the door and spoke angrily back over his shoulder, "Not a clue. Damn my father's idiotic chauvinism. I've got to tell Angel!" He paused at the door, "Do you want to come?"

Giles jumped at the proposal, "Oh, certainly! Do you want me to call Faith?"

"Good idea, she just left," Wesley answered decisively. "But tell her she needs to hurry because we're leaving as soon as we can figure out where to go. Apparently my back isn't the only one that needs watching."

Both men hurried down the corridor.

……………………………

Angel stood in front of the holding cells that held the traitorous Wolfram and Hart employees. He spoke distastefully, "I wanted to fire you but the senior partner's representative said we couldn't. Something about tenured contracts." The group of backstabbers smiled at each other in relief, some started to sneer. Angel continued grimly, "So you're not fired; however, we just got you a transfer to a small section dealing with specialized clientele in one of the lesser known but more interesting hell dimensions—Hertross. Ever heard of it?" One of the men sunk slowly to the floor in a faint and three others started to look sick with fear. The others grew uneasy at the reaction of those who were apparently more in-the-know. Angel smiled unsympathetically, "I understand when they use the term 'suck up' there, they mean it literally. Have fun, boys. Be sure to write." Angel walked away, satisfied to leave the Wolfram and Hart employees to the fate they signed up for when they joined the evil corporation.

……………………………..

Angel sat at his desk, his arms crossed with suppressed irritation, leaning back in his chair with a sword lying in front of him, "I know he's your father, Wes, but the only thing worse than having to save the bast…um, man, is not knowing where to go to save him!"

Giles sat with an axe propped against his chair and silently agreed. Across from him, a very tired Gunn slumped in a chair half asleep, with an even bigger axe laying across his lap. Faith leaned silently against the arm of the couch, perfectly somber for once. Fred sat on the couch adjusting her crossbow but obviously listening intently to their conversation.

Wesley nodded understandingly at Angel, "Yes. I know we're all tired but it can't be helped. Unless Mary can somehow warn my father before they get there, the only chance we have of getting there in time is if Mary can find out where they're going. My father's cell phone is apparently turned off and Mary doesn't know the location of the meeting place."

Angel said in frustration, "Where could it be?" His phone rang and Angel hit the intercom with his fist and said aggravated, "Yes, this is Angel." From the loudspeaker came three distinct thumps echoing across the room. Angel looked puzzled for a second and then cried excitedly, "Dennis! Is someone there?" Three more clear taps sounded and then, in the background, the group could distinctly hear the precise annoyed tones of Roger Wyndam-Pryce say, "Why is this phone off the hook?" as the line hung up leaving only dial tone in its wake.

To be continued…

Next chapter title: "The Reason We Fight"

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review. You guys don't know how it warms the cockles of my heart! So, big thanks to: djSoSoNut, what a review! I just _love_ the long reviews! Actually, I love all the reviews! But I appreciate the time you took to write it. I agree with everything you said; Faith-Illyria, huh? I'm thinking that would be one big ol' fight, myself (probably ending with broken bathroom tiles again); I agree that Wes is capable of being scary, period; don't worry much angst coming up, just keep tuned; I do feel free to add things not in canon as long as they don't screw up canon, It helps the creative muse; more Mary and Phantom Dennis to come (although they are fairly minor characters), thanks! Thanks –J: I wish you could write playful Wes too, then I could read it! Feel free to try! Glad you liked the Lorne scene, I had to rewrite that several times before I felt it was right; Emil was the guy who made the collapsible swords for Wesley and was killed in season five when he met with Wesley about buy some high powered rifles for gun runners (the episode with Wesley's father and the cyborgs), he was mentioned before in my story in the chapter when Giles, Mary, Wesley, and Fred met in the restaurant. Thanks t87gan: I love it when my chapters are considered _brilliant_! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!


	19. The Reason We Fight

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Nineteen)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_See Special Author's Note at End of Story._

Angel and the gang moved rapidly, but silently, down the hallway to Cordelia's old apartment. When they reached the door, Faith stopped chewing her gum, pressed her ear to the door, listened, and said softly, "I hear talkin' in there." Then she stepped back to kick it in but Wesley stopped her, looked at the rest of the group and said tersely, "Everyone ready?" His brief glance at the group showed approving nods. He then said quietly, "Dennis?" and the door swung wide open to the surprise of the inhabitants.

Inside, looking like some civilized meeting of a corporate board were Roger Wyndam-Pryce with eight other elderly men and three younger men talking amiably together in the darkened room. All were dressed in suits. Oddly, a heavy canvas was secured across the windows making the room a little too dim for comfort. But really, only the fact that the elderly men were all armed with swords and axes really sounded a discordant note in the proceedings. Wesley's father sounded exasperated as he said with irritation, "Wesley! What in the world are you doing here? This is council business! Can't you keep your nose out of our affairs?"

The gang stood bunched up at the door, brandishing various lethal medieval weaponry. As it became apparent that there was no immediate threat, people lowered their weapons and looked uncertainly at Angel and Wesley. Angel didn't lower his sword and instead stepped into the room urgently, calling back, "The three younger ones are vampires!" Hearing those words, Wesley dropped his crossbow limply to his side and stood dumbfounded for some reason, standing stock still at the scene in the room.

"I am well aware that they are vampires, Angelus," Roger haughtily. "Everything is well in hand. Just leave us to manage our own business."

Angel looked back at his friend but kept an eye on the three vampires, "Wesley?"

Wesley seemed to pull himself together somewhat with an effort and moved in beside Angel, saying tremulously, "Oh...my…God. Easton? Oldroyd? Mathews?" The three young vampires displayed various smirks at Wesley. "W-What have you done, Father?"

"Nothing less than what was necessary for the survival of the council and humanity, boy," Roger said arrogantly.

Angel was confused and it showed in his voice, "What's going on, Wes?"

"Yes, boy," Roger said sarcastically. "Tell the vampire that you work for why we shouldn't work with vampires, too."

Abruptly, Wesley turned to Angel and said woodenly, "Let's go, Angel," and turned to leave.

Angel grabbed Wesley's arm and said urgently, "Winston set this up, this has to be a trap! If we're right and we leave, we're condemning these people to death. We should at least check out the rooms and around the outside of the apartment complex."

Wesley said angrily, "I don't give a da…" He was interrupted as all the doors inside the apartment opened and vampires poured in from the other rooms in Cordelia's apartment. Even more worrying, Wesley and Angel could hear cries of surprise and combat in the hallway behind them.

The three younger, well-dressed vampires, that Wesley had identified as Easton, Oldroyd, and Mathews, each attacked the surprised watchers in front of them. The sickening crunch of neck bones snapping signaled the death of two of the watchers. The third watcher, Simpson, evidently had better reflexes and was able to dodge the grasp of his attacker.

Angel charged into the fray stabbing two of the newly arrived vampires with his extendable stakes creating a cloud of dust that he slammed through to grapple with a third. He threw the hapless would-be attacker into the wall and impaled him as it slumped against the wall stunned. However, another of the new vampires closed and grappled Angel from behind and each struggled to bring down the other.

Meanwhile, Wesley coolly shot the vamped Mathews who was attacking the luckier watcher. Another cloud of dust appeared. Seeing that Wesley was weaponless except for the now expended crossbow, three of the other newly arrived vampires charged Wesley. Holding his crossbow in his left hand, he extended his right arm causing the sword to slide out smoothly with a ss_shink_ and then swung it perfectly to decapitate the startled leading vampire, while at the same time causing the two behind the now dusted vampire to urgently back peddle in alarm.

Wesley risked a backwards look to see what was going on in the hallway and was pleased to see Faith, Giles, and Gunn moving in and out of view fighting in melee, while Fred kneeled behind them in the doorway taking careful shots at targets out of his line of vision. Bringing his attention back to the two vampires in front of him as they charged again, he sliced down and caught one between neck and shoulder blade and while he clouted the other attacker with the stock of his crossbow. The sword got caught in the wound as the vampire dropped to his knees, so Wesley retracted the sword, causing the skewered vampire to cry out in pain. During this maneuver, the other vampire swung a glancing blow to Wesley's temple, which temporarily staggered the ex-watcher. The vampire launched forward to grapple Wesley and shoved him back against the side wall of the entryway. While the vampire bent Wesley's neck to one side to bite, Wesley brought up his arm to hopefully shoot a stake in its heart, but instead the tip of a crossbow bolt appeared in the vampire's chest and, as both man and vampire looked down in surprise, the vampire disintegrated into dust exposing Fred in the doorway lowering her crossbow to reload again.

She smiled with that lopsided pixyish grin she had and then turned back to the fight in the hallway. Wesley smiled back and then, as the furious vampire that Wesley had earlier chopped rose up to attack, Wesley expended his stake on it instead.

A vampire ran past Wesley while he was busy, obviously charging at Fred's undefended back, when the door violently swung directly in the vampire's way so he whammed into the edge of the door. He whimpered in pain as he slowly slid down into unconsciousness at Fred's feet. Fred looked over her shoulder and said brightly, "Thanks, Dennis!" and pulled a stake from somewhere to put the vampire out of its misery (if it had ever woken up to feel it, that is). The door waggled a little in response and then opened wide in hopes of another sucker.

Wesley drew a stake from his jacket and surveying the battleground, could see that the watchers, with Angel's help, had recovered from their initial surprise and backed into one corner, putting the wounded behind them, and at least appeared to be holding their own. Angel was in the middle of the group of vampires and creating havoc striking a flurry of blows with occasional stakings. The vampires' inexperience at combat showed, when they were hindered rather than helped by their numbers as they got in each other's way and jostled those close enough to attack Angel. Their confusion and ineffectiveness was also increased by the invisible, ghostly presence of Dennis; who was lifting knickknacks and dropping them from above on the invariably surprised vampires. More than one startled vampire ducked at the unexpected item dropping on him and was left wide open to Angel's attack. Angel's attack style created a surreal scene where his black figure swirled through the group leaving sporadic clouds of dust in his wake—and an ever-smaller opposition. Wesley marveled at Angel's buzzsaw-like maneuvers through the mob and was pretty sure he didn't need any help. In fact, it might hinder Angel for a (living) friendly to be in range.

Switching his attention back to the watchers he saw they needed help. Easton and Oldroyd, along with two other vampires, were seriously pressing the elderly, tiring watchers and Easton was able to yank out a watcher from the line and savagely sink his teeth into the man's neck. Wesley surged forward fighting his way to the couch and jumped on it running along the top of the back. He saw another vampire attack through the open spot Easton had created and as Wesley's father pushed it back with a cross and while raising his stake, Oldroyd attacked from the other side and grabbed the elder watcher's arm and throat.

Wesley sprang from the couch stabbing into the back of Oldroyd and in the resulting _poof_ found himself face to face with his father. The older man clutched his throat gasping and eyeing his son in surprise, but neither man had time to speak as new attackers stepped in. Wesley staked the next attacker and found himself facing Easton who was just dropping the desiccated body of the murdered watcher.

The blonde, pretentious, too-perfectly-dressed Easton grinned at Wesley, "So, how long's it been, Junior?"

Wesley muttered, "Not long enough, you ponce," and attacked.

Easton was irritated as he deflected Wesley's first blow and swung a punch that Wesley ducked under, "I told Winston this was a stupid place to have the ambush!"

Wesley stomped Easton's foot causing the vampire to bend over and grunt in pain. Wesley attempted to stab the exposed back but Easton managed to rise up just enough to put a shoulder in the way and Wesley shoved the vampire backwards a few feet leaving them both off balance. Both were breathing heavily; one from need, the other from habit, as Wesley asked heatedly, "Why did he chose this place, then?"

Easton was obviously infuriated, gritting out the answer from between his teeth as he lunged angrily, grappling Wesley, "Because he's obsessed with playing with you! He can't stop screwing with your life! He Just. Can't. Get. Over. You!"

Angel finished off the last of the vampires in the main group and looked up briefly to say, "Thanks, Dennis." Then, he looked around to see Wesley and the watchers fighting with the last three in the room. He glanced towards the hallway and was pleased to see Gunn anxiously awaiting an opportunity to strike at the last vampire as Faith pummeled it to the ground. He was betting that Faith wouldn't let Gunn get a shot. Fred had apparently decided the same thing and was aiming towards the vampires fighting the group of watchers. She fired and another vampire exploded into tiny grains of dust. Giles, carrying his axe, moved into view in the doorway trying to get past Fred and into the room, without messing up her reloading process. Angel started to move towards the vampire that Wesley was fighting, when Angel stopped for a second, shocked when he suddenly realized that the vampire had a soul. Wesley's father and Simpson tag teamed the other remaining vampire, staking it, as Wesley continued to fight Easton.

Wesley grappled with the vampire, trying to get his stake in position, while the vampire slammed Wesley against the wall causing Wesley's broken ribs to protest at the treatment. As Wesley hissed in pain and slumped, he raised his arm causing the sword to extend into the vampire's stomach. Screaming at the impalement, Easton backed up and looked around to realize all his minions were gone. He sprinted the couple of steps to the window diving for it. Angel grabbed for him and missed, and the vampire crashed through the window taking the heavy canvas, and the long curtains behind it, with him as it enveloped his body. The sparkling light of broad daylight streamed in through the shattered window, striking Angel and causing wisps of smoke to immediately rise from his exposed frame. Angel urgently flung himself out of the burning reach of the sun and deftly did a forward roll through a nearby door to the safety of the bedroom, much to his relief. He lay, panting needlessly, hurriedly wiping away the last remnants of smoke from his jacket.

Wesley dragged himself up and leaned over the couch and windowsill to look at the street below. Except for some scattered glass, the street was empty.

……………………………

After the fight, most of the watchers, faces a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude, silently took their wounded and dead and left. Angel's group gathered in the room, a blanket securely placed covering the jagged edged remains of the window. Of the watchers, only Roger Wyndam-Pryce and Simpson remained. Wesley's father was looking at his son oddly as if he wasn't sure what to make of him. Wesley ignored him and stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning with his back to the frame, apparently deep in thought.

Angel stepped up to Roger and said angrily, "Don't you think it's time you left the country. Winston does not want to come back with you! In fact, he just sent a three-body telegram to you to that effect. We can deal with him—assuming we're not constantly dealing with you!"

Wesley's father replied with precise annoyance clear in his voice, "I'd be glad to leave this godforsaken country! I've apparently caught one of the many diseases of this horrible place and some local, American witch doctor had the gall to suggest I have poison ivy, as if I'd grub around in the wilderness of this misbegotten land!" He scratched vigorously as he started to march out of the apartment, "As to whether or not I shall leave, that will be my decision, not yours." Not bothering to look back, Roger said imperatively, "Come, Simpson." The other watcher paused hesitantly, looking at Angel and appearing for a moment like he wanted to speak, and then looked away and started for the door.

Wesley's bitter voice stopped both men, but addressed his father, "I knew you were ruthless but I thought Winston, at least, had what little love you were capable of bestowing. Were we all ever anything but pawns for you to manipulate and discard as you saw fit?" Wesley took a couple of steps toward his father.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce turned, his aloof tone galling to hear, "I have no idea what you're talking about, boy."

Wesley said indignantly, "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" His entire body appeared tensed for battle, his fists white at his side.

Roger apparently ran out of patience for prevaricating and spoke arrogantly, "Once again, you fail to understand the necessities of this calling. Winston understood. Nearly the entire council was destroyed. In order to meet the need for qualified personnel capable of handling the task, radically different approaches needed to be considered. Certain sacrifices had to be made in order to continue to fight the war."

Wesley laughed sourly, "Well, Winston doesn't appear to understand now. Perhaps the recognition that his own father was willing to turn him, and other watchers, into the very thing they loathed was the last straw! Exactly how many watchers did you turn?"

Roger looked at Simpson uneasily and finally said stiffly, "Four total. They all volunteered." Simpson looked shocked at the statement.

In the background, the gang began to understand exactly what the argument was about and various expressions of disbelief, shock, and repugnance appeared on their faces. Giles was obviously seething with anger and started forward, looking ready to strike the man. Funnily enough, Faith, her face impassive, held Giles back.

Wesley sarcastically offered, "Perhaps you weren't aware that Winston and his little group of toadies were the nastiest bunch of bullies the Academy had seen in decades. They probably volunteered because their hopes of rising in the ranks to eventually attain all the power the council could provide were shattered. This was the next best thing."

"Your brother was not a bully!" Roger was emphatic as he moved closer to Wesley; "He simply showed his leadership and decision-making skills early. I was proud of his ability to stand up to others!"

Wesley laughed so hard he bent over and held his stomach, but there was an embittered tone to the laugh. His father grew red at the apparent slight by his son and Wesley finally spit out bitterly, "Proud! Do you realize you've _never_ used that word in conjunction with your children before? Ever? We would all have died to hear it," Wesley sobered up suddenly and continued harshly, "and Winston evidently did." Wesley looked angrily at his father as another thought suddenly occurred to him, "What about the whole 'families dedicated to the cause' speech, or do you plan to actually trust me to carry on the family name and traditions." Fred moved next to Wesley, offering her silent support to a man she loved and respected.

Roger completely ignored Fred as unimportant, as he retorted, "The concept was to carry the name forward forever in honor as an eternal watcher. I suppose in these days of lowered standards and limited manpower pool, you, and possibly Mary, could provide supervised support positions in the new Council. Of course, in any case, you and Mary must each carry on the family lineage and dedicate your progeny to their duty."

Wesley said hotly, "My _progeny_, if I have any, are going to have the right to choose their own destinies, and will have the loving support of their parents when they do." Fred's eyes shone at his words.

"Damn it, boy! You must do your duty!" Roger lost his tightly wound restraint and swung his fist angrily at Wesley's face, but Wesley stopped it cold with his hand just short of its destination and forced it down despite the older, red-faced man's determined efforts.

Wesley spoke softly, but there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down the old man's neck, "Stop calling me that. I'm not a boy anymore, father. Try to hit me again and I'll prove it."

Roger said skeptically, "You wouldn't!"

"I would," Wesley replied simply.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce shook with barely restrained rage, "America has contaminated you. You've lost all possible worthwhile values. You have forgotten the respect due a father. You would never have shown such disrespect in Britain!"

"How could I respect what I've never had, _father_," Wesley drawled out the last word sarcastically. Wesley waved his hand in disgust, half-turning to leave. His father flinched at his son's raised hand. Son and father froze in place looking at each other, one mouth agape and the other white-faced, both in disbelief. Wesley slowly lowered his hand to his side and looked slightly quizzically at the man he'd never really understood and probably never would, "You needn't worry, father. Unlike you, I don't hit people without a reason."

As his father began to sputter, apparently attempting to dispute any such fear, Wesley silently turned and walked away, unaccountably feeling, for the first time in his life, free. Fred caught up with Wesley and took his arm affectionately without a backwards glance. Still embroiled in his strange, new emotions, Wesley didn't look down at her but he rested his hand on hers, gladdened by the knowledge that he wasn't alone. The rest of the gang filtered out throwing looks of disgust as they left.

Faith walked up beside Roger (who eyed her warily) and she said dangerously, "I think Giles wanted to beat you up?" Roger looked at her with disgust. "Course, that would be _wrong_," she put an odd emphasis to the words as if she had practiced them for some strange reason. "If a watcher needs someone pummeled, he should send a slayer." Roger edged away warily. Faith moved with him as she continued, "Ya' know the only difference between you and my father, Rog? My dad didn't have enough education to screw me more than one way. Although, he liked to hit me, too." Roger's shock was apparent. She brushed some imaginary lint off of Roger's shoulder, and continued, "But I cured him of both." Chewing her gum vigorously, she blew a bubble and let it pop, startling the older man to his embarrassment. Then she ambled away nonchalantly and shut the door.

As Roger Wyndam-Pryce gathered his tattered rags of dignity, he strode purposefully to the door followed more slowly by the thoughtful Simpson. Roger threw open the door and started to go through it, when the door slammed into his backside shoving him humiliatingly against the far wall in the hallway and shredding the last remains of his self-respect.

He was really, really sick of America.

Somewhere, within the walls of the apartment, a ghost laughed noiselessly.

…………………………….

By the time Roger Wyndam-Pryce had returned to the hotel, he'd had time to restore his ego to its rightful place and also had time to consider the implications of the events at the apartment. Entering the suites they were lodging in, he walked up to Mary, who had already found out about the ambush from the others. Mary tried to be calm and efficient, knowing what response the events were likely to bring out in her father, "These messages are from the solicitor; he wants you to call back as soon as possible, and these faxes came in. I'm sorry things didn't go well, Father."

Roger gathered up the paperwork and spoke calmly and coldly, "I wonder how they knew about our little operation tonight."

Mary knew that her father knew of her involvement (regardless of its ineffectiveness), but defended herself, "It's a good thing they did, Father, or you'd be dead."

Her father replied ruthlessly, "I can't have people who betray me working for me. You need to decide which side you are on, the council's or that band of vagabonds—are you a watcher or not." Without giving her time to reply, he started to walk out—sure of the reestablishment of control. But the watchers, led by Simpson, were standing in his way.

Simpson looked at the others and then spoke, "Sir, we need to talk."

To be continued……

Special Author's Note: I apologize to any Faith fans that were offended by her (not in canon) revelation. I can only say, it seemed to fit. Also, I strongly believe that there is no shame in being a victim; silence only protects the perpetrator. I believe Faith is the kind of person determined to stop being a victim (or a victimizer), hence her reform.

Author's Notes: Thanks to my reviewers; _Thank you, MidnightzStorm_. I appreciate your staying with me and reviewing! I made a mistake in that conversation. I didn't make it clear that it was Faith talking to Fred. However, it was a fun line! Thanks again, that's how I get better! _Thank you, -J_. Glad you like Dennis, some of what I put in this chapter was for you. Hope you like it. Convenient plot devices are convenient aren't they? I can't find what you think is clipped, if you mean the conversation at the beginning (that starts at the end of a conversation between Fred and Faith) that was on purpose. I apparently confused people with the conversation, so my bad. If it's something else, let me know. I get your point about the Giles-Wes conversation. However, resolving tension is only done to create more later, you'll see. Another good point about Lorne's apparent insensitivity; I wrote a scene to explain it later. Thanks.


	20. Aftermath

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Author's Note: I am overwhelmed at the moment by home, school, and work. Hopefully, it should be resolved some time in February. I hope you all understand. Rather than stop updating, I plan to continue to update but with shorter chapters than usual (around 1,000 to 2,000 words). I think that will be better than stopping for a while. After all, my life is never simple and if I stop it might be difficult to start again. I love to write. It's my only outlet. But I have to take care the business of my life first. It's very depressing.

………………………………………

Wesley sat in the dark. He leaned back in his chair—brooding. Despite the spectacular view of the office, he had no eyes for it. All he saw in the deepening gloom was the distant past.

_He'd made Head Boy! Even father would have to admit that was an achievement. The Headmaster had just told him and was going to send a letter to his father! He'd hoped and worked, and all that work had paid off… Not paying attention to his surroundings, Wesley turned the corner and ran into Winston and his brother's cronies, Easton, Oldroyd, and Mathews. They were bullying a couple of first years. Winston had one of the scared, tearful boys by the collar and shoved against the wall, while the other small, squirming boy was held against his will in the clutches of Oldroyd and Mathews, his brother's muscle. Easton was leaning against the wall next to the collared youth offering Winston suggestions, as usual, of creative ways to punish the 'miscreant' for whatever imagined crime the boy had committed._

_Blanching, Wesley began to back up before his brother could see him. His brother, continuing his learned behavior at home, had tormented Wesley mercilessly at school. Wesley could stand up to almost anyone if necessary, but training from birth concerning his family had left him with very specific ideas of his place in the family structure—and expectations of behavior. This flaw might have prevented him from being selected as Head Boy, but his patience with the younger boys and willingness to tutor those in difficulty, along with (to be honest) his brilliance must have pushed him over the mark. Wesley considered running, but then a spark of rebellion arose from deep within him. He was about to be Head Boy! He couldn't run from problems. His Headmaster and his father expected him to stand up to defend himself and others! To be a leader! Wesley stepped forward with determination, "Leave him alone!" _

_Winston and the others looked over at him in surprise loosening their grips on their victims. The younger boys took advantage of the momentary distraction to run. Winston was irritated by the loss of his prey; however, he quickly recovered. He stepped forward, his face amused with the idea of a little game of "Mussing up Junior." Mouse had found enough backbone to stay rather than his usual scurry to a mouse hole. He'd have to show him what a mistake that was. Winston had to take charge and be a leader. After all, it was no less than what father expected of his son. The four boys surrounded Wesley, who looked nervously around, but refused to back down, "I'm going to be Head Boy. I…I won't allow you to bully the smaller boys."_

_Winston was shocked at the announcement and then laughed heartily, joined by his friends. Wesley reddened and started to push past, when Winston instantly sobered up and grabbed his 'younger' brother shoving him against a stone pillar of the ancient institution's foundation. Pushing his face into his brother's intimidatingly, he said angrily, "Head Boy! That's a navy term, isn't it? Isn't the head a toilet?" Wesley struggled but the others helped hold him firm and dragged him into the nearest loo, shoving his head down into a toilet and flushing. Sure of the reestablishment of control and, Winston strolled out of the loo followed by his friends, all of them laughing. _

_Wesley stayed sitting on the floor, water dripping down his face and clothes, and leaned back against the wall of the stall choking and trying to get his breath back. He fought back the tears that threatened to flow. He'd stood up to his brother and protected the boys. He'd paid for it in his humiliation, but he'd done his job. He didn't care what it took, he would do his job. His jaw tightened with restrained anguish; it was going to be a very long year. _

She leaned in the doorway of the dark office, unnoticed by the man lost deep in his thoughts. When they'd gotten back from Cordelia's apartment, he'd seemed…not exactly happy, but revved in some way—like he'd had an epiphany and was still processing it. She hadn't been surprised when he excused himself and went off alone. However, if the half-full whiskey bottle and empty glass on the desk were any indication, his thoughts were not good ones. She suspected he'd hit the bottle a lot last year. She couldn't blame him for that; she understood the need to retreat from loneliness (the walls of her cave in Pylea were covered with that need). However, he didn't need to be alone anymore. She frowned and moved forward, momentarily startling him when she appeared beside his chair and hugged him against her, pressing the side of his face between her breasts and dropping her head on top of his comfortingly. He was tense for a second and then relaxed into the warmth and softness, drinking in her essence, that special scent that was her's alone. He wrapped his arms around her gently.

She realized that she couldn't smell any alcohol and commented, "I thought you were drinking."

He smiled (she could feel the movement against her body), "I was going to and then suddenly couldn't stand the idea of the taste of it." He looked up at her, his eyes dim with the forlorn memory of dreary yesterdays, "Too much like last year."

She asked gently, "I know it was awful to learn what your father has done, but I thought you handled it perfectly. You aren't responsible for what he did and you shouldn't let it get you down."

Wesley paused for a moment and then sighed as he answered, "When we left I felt…um, I don't know…different. I felt good." He paused again and then looked at her wearily, "I felt powerful." He looked away, "For just a second, for just one second, my father was afraid of me…and I enjoyed it." He leaned his forehead against her, his voice slightly muffled, "Fred, about that incident with…Billy…when I attacked you…"

Fred ruffled his hair, "I told you then it was something that was done to you. We were both victims of a demon that could make people do things they would never do normally."

"But is that true?" He looked up searchingly into her face, "I told you then that something was pulled up from deep within me, something primal, but maybe…," his voice grew harsh, "maybe it would be more accurate to say something paternal."

Fred said firmly, "No! You are not like your father."

Wesley spoke urgently, "You don't know that! I lived every day of my life worried that I would become my father! And then…Billy happened. Do you remember that joke I told you when I was contaminated by Billy?"

Fred quoted shakily, "What do you say to a woman with two black eyes?"

"Nothing you haven't already said twice before," Wesley finished the quote. He quirked up an eyebrow, "Do you know where I heard that joke from? From my father. He said it to my mother under remarkably similar circumstances actually." Wesley laughed bleakly, "Of course, he wasn't influenced by a demon, other than inner ones, and she lived to suffer another day. He laughed bitterly again, "Lucky her, lucky me. She allowed herself to be abused day after day, month after month, year after year. She was trapped by her unwillingness to change her circumstances and it appears that I am trapped by my genes. Wesley couldn't keep eye contact with Fred, "Suppose that…joy I felt is just the beginning, suppose I…," he stopped, unable to continue.

"What?" Fred asked in disbelief, "hit me? Day after day, month after yada, yada, yada? Give me a break, Wesley! You know, I wish Cordelia was here! She'd slap you and then tell you to get over yourself!" Fred looked at him for a second and then smacked him on the shoulder and said, "Get over yourself!" in a fair imitation of the seer. Fred eyed him fiercely and quirked up both her eyebrows.

Startled he rubbed his shoulder and then giggled a little, "Yes, Cordelia." In a tone that meekly sounded like 'yes, mother.'

"Really, Wesley," she sounded exasperated, "Do ya' really think I'd sit around and let someone whump me?" She leaned over him and gripped the armrests, her face an inch from his, "Ya' know, _I build things_."

"Yes, you do," Wesley admitted with a smile, remembering her extremely effective blade catapult.

She snuggled him against her again and he willing relaxed in her arms. "I'm dangerous, you know," she added.

"Absolutely," he agreed.

They cuddled motionless for a while and then Wesley asked, "Fred?"

"Mmmm," her body vibrated against his ear.

"At the risk of being told off again, something else has been bothering me," he looked up at her again. "What if I'd never been fired, if I'd never left the council, my father would have asked me to volunteer. He would gladly have sacrificed me rather than Winston."

Fred felt a cold shiver go down her as she realized he was probably right, but she said firmly, "You can't help what your father does, Wesley."

He looked up at her again, his expression vulnerable, "That isn't what's bothering me. What's bothering me is that I'm wondering, would I have said no? He shook his head in defeat, "And I'm afraid of the answer."

Fred held his face so they looked directly in each other's eyes, "Would you do it now?"

"No, of course not!" Wesley blurted out without thinking.

Fred cradled him against her again, "Then don't worry about it."

She could feel him smile again as he said wryly, "You have very simple answers."

Fred gripped tighter and said resolutely, "You have no control over what you might have done or not done in response to some situation in the past. That's who you were; that's dead and gone. You only have control over who you are now. _You_, Wesley. No one else. Haven't you learned that much from Angel?"

He relaxed into her warmth again, "Yes, you're right."

They stayed still together, united as one against the difficult world and the darkness melted from cold isolation into a warm blanket that swathed them both peacefully.

……………………………

The next day, Wesley knocked firmly on a hotel door. After a few minutes, the door opened showing Giles apparently fresh from the shower but mostly dressed. The surprise was clear in his voice as he asked, "Has something come up?" He finished buttoning up his shirt as he spoke.

Wesley looked inquiringly at Giles, "I was wondering if you could give me Willow's phone number."

Giles looked innocently inquiring as he asked, "Why on earth would you need that?"

Wesley's small smile belied the firmness of his answer, "I think you know perfectly well why I need it?"

Giles stood, his face perfectly straight for a few minutes, and then he smiled and laughed shortly, "Oh, all right." Then in a tone of voice that indicated that he could care less, "Are you going to tell him?" However, his real concern became clear with his next words, "I only ask, because if you are, I'd prefer that you said that I did it. I'd rather there wasn't anyone else involved."

Wesley said understandingly, "I see no reason for any discussion. I have the distinct impression that he doesn't think anything from me of any possible interest—and I know I feel that way about him."

Giles smiled and pulled out his notebook and a pen.

…………………………

Wesley spoke shortly, "Willow, you need to take that spell off my father."

"Spell? What spell?" Willow attempted to sound perfectly innocent.

"Please, Willow, I've already been through this with Giles," Wesley said exasperated.

Mirroring Giles reaction, there was a small pause and then over the long distance, Willow's voice said grumpily, "Oh, all right. I just wanted some payback. I thought it was pretty restrained," her tone grew darker and grimmer, "considering what I could have done."

Wesley immediately dismissed any implication of wrongdoing, "Yes, yes, it's perfectly understandable. However, at this stage it's petty and unnecessary. My goal is simply to get him out of our hair, so I'd appreciate it if you removed the spell. I think the day after tomorrow would be the best time."

"The day after…?" Willow was silent for a few seconds. Wesley could hear the smile over the line; "Sure, I think I can take care of that for you, Wesley."

To be continued…

Author's Note: Thank you goldenshadows for your first time review (cool name by the way), hope you're enjoying the rest of the story, sorry there's so much to plow through; Thank you –J for reviewing again, I appreciate the nice words, I especially worked on the part about Faith and the part about Wesley and Fred's reaction for quite a while, I probably put a little too much Dennis in but once I started I just couldn't stop, it was like I was possessed…. "Dennis! Stop that!" Nope, no sympathy planned for Roger, he's just a bastard (you'll see later on).


	21. Dynamic Duo's

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-one)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Faith was at loose ends, with Wesley and Angel tied up with some last minute business, before they all got down to the real business of the day. She had looked in on Angel and he was arguing over business practices and budgets with some woman called Eve. She walked right back out (like she wanted to get involved in some corporate infighting, now, if he wanted his secretary staked…). She wandered through Wolfram and Hart aimlessly (but making sure to pass Angel's blonde vampire secretary twice just to watch her squirm). Finally, she decided to check in on Lorne. She traipsed into his office and sat on his desk as he finished a call with his latest client. She chewed her gum vigorously and swung her feet back and forth impatiently as she listened, but smiled at Lorne over her shoulder.

He waggled his fingers at her cheerily as he wrapped up the call, "Sweetheart, you just be on the set tomorrow morning at 6 am and be ready to knock their socks off. I'll do the rest." He listened for a second and then said, "Right, Ciao." He shut his cell phone and leaned back in the chair, taking a big breath, "It's amazing the hand feeding you have to do with actors." Then, leaning forward with interest, he asked, "What can I do for you, Sweetie?"

Faith looked at him smirking, "Soooo, if I wanna date with the latest hot rocker, should I see you?" She blew a bubble and popped it.

Lorne scowled, "I just got off that merry-go-round, and anyway both you and I know someone in England is waiting to 'surprise' you. You've definitely raised your standards to higher education lately." She just smiled and swung her legs a little faster. Lorne continued, "So, what are you doing here? Waiting for the dawn patrol?" He looked at his watch, "Well, actually, the ten o'clock patrol?"

Faith smiled and hopped off the desk, "Yep. Wesley had some errand to run but as soon as he gets back we're on the 'Get Winston' hunt." Faith leaned dangerously over Lorne's desk but her eyes twinkled with humor, "By the way, Lorne, what's up with the whole 'Psycho' ringer thing on Wes' phone."

"Oh, give it a rest, Twinkie! You don't scare me," Lorne laughed and then continued a little nervously, "Well, actually you do a little, but both you and I know you like the rep without living with the inner psychobabble anymore. I knew you'd enjoy the joke without thinking it was what I think of you." He smiled broadly at her, "We both know you're in a different place these days."

Faith looked a little uncertain, "Am I really okay, Lorne? I, um, have nightmares at night worryin' 'bout it." She paused, looked around in case anyone could overhear, and leaned a little more forward, whispering, "I could sing or something."

Lorne got up, came around the desk, and wrapped his arm comfortingly around the doubting woman, "No need, sweetie. I could read you the first time I saw you talking to Wes after you arrived. You wear your heart and soul out for the world to see, if people would take the time to look. I know it isn't easy but you've done the hardest part. You've picked your path and you've got the determination to stay on it."

Faith smiled broadly at the green demon. Then looking at him a little quizzically, she asked, "So what's the deep message in Angel's 'Batman' theme song?"

Lorne laughed, "No message, darlin', just a poke at the big guy, gotta keep him humble."

They both laughed at the mental image of Angel as the caped crusader as they walked out the door and down the corridor, humming the Batman theme song together as a duet.

…………………………

Wesley was on his way up in the elevator as his phone rang, "Hello?…Oh, Mary! How are things going with father?"

"Wesley, the watchers have deserted father," Mary sounded slightly shocked. "I can't blame them but I'm surprised they actually did it. I didn't think those old cronies of father's would be deterred by anything. I guess this was just one step farther than even they could accept." Her voice grew angry, "None of us knew about this ridiculous scheme of turning watchers into vampires on purpose and reensouling them. The others were, in fact, told that the reensouling was done after the fact to bring good members of the council back into the fold. Basically making the best of a bad job. However, when they learned the truth, they refused to be a part of the scheme anymore and left—this morning, in fact. I tried to get him to leave but he's being stubborn and I'm afraid I don't have the patience to mollycoddle him into a more reasonable mood."

Wesley reflected on this and asked, "So, what are you going to do?"

Mary sounded thoughtful, "I've got an idea but I'm not sure. I'm seeing Rupert at lunch. I think I'll talk it over with him."

"Rupert, huh? Wesley smiled, "You're on a first name basis now, I see"

"Oh, give it up, Wesley," Mary replied good-naturedly. "You know you aren't going to get a rise out of me."

Wesley sobered, "You take care. Winston is still out there and I'd rather not lose anymore family."

"The same goes for you, baby brother," Mary was equally serious. "To Winston, I'm not even on the board. It's sad to say, but the fact that he and father share such misogynist tendencies has its advantages. You, on the other hand, seem to have his complete and undivided attention."

"Not enough of his attention to avoid all this collateral damage he seems to leave in his wake," Wesley said darkly.

Mary softened her tone, "I know you hate what he's doing but we both know that Winston was lost to us a long time ago and neither of us made him what he is today."

Wesley sighed in agreement. The elevator door opened at Wesley's floor and he stepped out, "I'm going to find him, Mary. At least I can give him some peace. Let me know what you decide to do about this business with father."

"I will," Mary assented. "Just be careful. One thing you and Winston have always shared is your single-minded focus on whatever you were concentrating on at the moment—even to your detriment. And for Winston, at the moment, that seems to be you."

To be continued…

Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter. Next one should be short too and then two good things should be able to happen. First, I should be able to make longer chapters and, second, the action should pick up in the story (just because we've finally reached that point). Thank you to my one reviewer, goldenshadows. Glad you like the story so far. I miss the show and I also wish they'd do a movie (and bring Wesley and Fred back!). Think of this story as between when the gang decided to take over Wolfram and Hart and when they really started to in the show. I may have a little bit of Spike but not much. You're right about many characters being complicated as far as story plotting goes. Definitely more father-son interaction coming!


	22. Clash of Plans

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-two)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_The two, small, brown-haired heads were only an inch apart as both identically dressed boys concentrated on the battlefield stretched beneath them. The tiny tin soldiers painted in two contrasting colors stood patiently at attention as they faced each other in neat formations awaiting their generals' next moves. The boys were strikingly similar but a closer look showed definitive differences. Although both were the same height, hair color, and used the mannerisms, one was sturdier. His pink, healthy cheeks and his thin but properly fleshed-out frame spoke of typical, robust boyhood. The other was thinner, his bones jutted out stretching the skin over them uncomfortably, and his legs lay sprawled beside him in a manner that suggested clumsy impairment. Only his eyes shone with a deep, bright flame suggesting a burning intensity unmatched by his healthier twin. The sturdier boy frowned at the last move made by his brother and then smiled reaching out his hand to move the minute units of his forces. The thinner boy watched and then laughed leaning back on his slender arms, "Well done, Winston! I never thought of that." _

_Winston smiled broadly at his 'younger' brother's approval, "Ta, Wesley. You played well but that last move was a mistake." _

"_Well, I won't make it again," Wesley exclaimed and began to rearrange his small army to begin again._

_The door opened and in walked the center of their small lives—Father. Winston jumped up and ran to his father knowing to stop just short of contact, "Father, I just beat Wesley at war!" _

_The man looked down at his son and smiled slightly, "Good! Did you use some of the tactics from that book on the Napoleonic wars I gave you?" Before his son could answer though, Roger Wyndam-Pryce's attention was taken by the sight of his other progeny struggling to stand on ungainly legs that refused to work properly. Roger frowned, irritated at the sight, "Can't you even stand, boy." He moved past his first son to grip the arm of the thinner boy, steadying him roughly, "Quit wavering, boy! Stand still!" Wesley strove to obey and was able to stand with relative stability. He looked up nervously, the flame in his eyes dimmed by his father's presence._

_Winston's eyes narrowed as he watched the interaction. He said loudly as he moved up to them, "Yes, father, I used some of the tactics from the book but I added a few of my own. I'm sure I can beat Wesley any time I want." _

_Roger let go of Wesley's almost emaciated arm impatiently, looked back at his son and said, "Of course you can, boy! I don't suppose Wesley is much of a challenge. You keep working on those tactics. You'll need them someday as a watcher." He then strode out of the room without a backwards glance, his mind already considering the latest batch of critical documents sent for his translation._

_Both boys looked at the door through which their father exited, one relieved, the other frustrated. Winston turned back to his brother and said tauntingly, "Can't you even stand, boy," and violently pushed his unsteady twin. Wesley fell and cried out as his backside landed on the numerous tiny soldiers hard, bruising and cutting his back and crushing them. Winston momentarily looked sorry and then looked to the door, his features hardening—he knew what was expected of him. He had to be tough. He stalked out of the room, a miniature version of his father, as Wesley tried and failed to stop crying. _

……………………

Winston was impatient with Easton's harping on the death of their mutual friends and it showed in his voice, "Oldroyd and Mathews were a couple of wastrels; they'd do what you told them but they never got the bigger picture! We're better off without them."

Colin Easton was aghast at this callous disregard of their friends' deaths, "Don't you miss them? Aren't you in the least sad? We've all been friends since we were ten years old."

Winston said shortly, "No."

Colin's tone was admiring despite his disbelief at Winston's heartlessness, "You've really embraced the whole creature of the night thing, haven't you? Or is this just you trying to live up to daddy's standards again? I always suspected he was a soulless bastard myself."

Winston grabbed Easton by the collar and shoved him up against the wall, "You leave my father out of this! I've gone beyond my father! He could never achieve what I will be able to in this form."

Colin was unruffled by the rough handling, "Really? And what exactly are you achieving here, Winston? Mostly I just see you pissing off your brother. I agree that you aren't exactly dancing to your father's tune anymore, but you aren't really dancing to your own tune either. By staying here and playing games with Wussley, you risk dying for someone you could never stand to be around when you were alive! Stop being some kind of Voldemort and wasting your time on revenge for some offense you can't even name. He just isn't worth it."

Winston shoved roughly away from Colin looking like he'd heard something previously unimagined and profound. Winston stood shaking his head in wonder and then said in realization, "That's right, isn't it. I am getting something from all this. It's like, unless I can torment him, I'm incomplete. I need him for some reason or I don't feel alive."

Easton exploded, "Winston, you _aren't alive_!" He visibly tried to calm himself and moved up to his lifelong friend, speaking in the role of confidant, "I never really understood your obsession with Junior. Didn't understand it at the academy; don't understand it now. Can't you just get past the ponce and move on?" He squeezed Winston's shoulder and added, "I have. Moved on, I mean. I have plans and they don't have anything to do with my old life. I'd like you to be a part of it. Wouldn't be as much fun without you. All you have to do is walk away from this disaster."

Winston moved away, his back to his friend, and shook his head indecisively. He started to speak and then closed his mouth as if reconsidering his words.

Colin moved around to grip both of Winston's shoulders and look intently into his friend's eyes, "There are better reasons to exist than staying near people that you don't like—and that can potentially kill you. I'm your friend, Winston. I've always followed you because you were always good for a laugh. But you need to get over your old life and embrace the fun of living forever." Recognizing from long experience that Winston was not going to budge, Easton continued with irritation, "If you are really determined to go on with this business, you could at least attack it intelligently. Those people you made minions had about as much fighting ability as my grandmother, before I ate her! You should try 'recruiting' some military people next time."

Winston turned and slowly smiled broadly, "Actually, I've already kind of done that. I think you'll like what I've put in place."

Colin smiled back, "I love it when you have a plan."

…………………

Off to the side, Dave, Winston's supposed 'second-in-command,' listened angrily. Another whole batch of 'disposable' vampires, gone. Not that he cared about them, just the attitude that indicated that he was disposable, too. This obsession of his sire's was going to get them all killed. His face showed none of his anger but inside he seethed. Then, he smiled coldly. Fortunately, his sire wasn't the only one with a plan.

…………………..

Emil smiled at the small hunched figure that remained in the shadows, "My customer wants someone with your special talents on call. He's paying a rather spectacular bonus for the privilege." Emil glanced around the Spartan accouterments of the room and continued politely, "Do you have everything you need? For this amount of money, you can pretty much have anything you need."

The voice from the figure was unexpectedly deep and sounded like three voices speaking in harmony, an unpleasant remnant of the sound echoed in Emil's mind leaving an unclean feeling behind, "We need nothing _but_ _to feed!_"

"Soon," Emil winced at the effects of the voice on his brain, but made sure to smile and speak soothingly, "very, very soon."

…………………..

Wesley, Angel, and Faith sat in the surveillance van watching the monitors. The technician, who had been listening intently through a set of headphones while surveying several monitors, took off his headphones and turned to Angel, "This is definitely the place, Sir. I'm getting conversation and movement but the heat sensors aren't picking up anything except in this one area." He pointed on a heat sensing monitor, "There are four heat sources here but they aren't moving enough to account for all the movement I'm getting on the sensors; in fact, they're hardly moving at all." Four human figures were laying or sitting fairly still together in a small area. The technician pointed on another monitor showing movement in another area, "The direction of the conversations are coming from the direction where all the movement is registering. Gotta be vampires. No other explanation." The techie returned to his monitoring as the others looked at each other grimly. Wesley quickly called a speed dial number, "Gunn, we've found them. Let everyone know."

………………

On the upper floor of an ignored warehouse behind the van, a figure peered out from a broken pane of glass and made his own call, "Sire, they're here. I'll let everyone know."

To be continued…

Special Note: Things are getting back on track. I should be able to start doing regular chapters again now (or at least the one after the next one). Thanks for the patience.

Author's Note: Oh my gosh! Thank you gopie! Twenty reviews! Hoody-hooo! Answering questions you had in order; you're right about the definition monozygotic (one egg) (once again, advanced education provides interesting trivia useful for fan fiction and probably no other application); yes, Winston's relationship with Wesley is twisted, more about that in this chapter actually; you're allowed to like/love Winston (I think he got the short end of the stick from birth, myself), can you imagine Alexis Denisof doing both roles? (He's such a good actor, he would have been great); really glad you're enjoying the story and thank you again for all the great reviews! You really made my week. As a side note, thanks to all the other people who have reviewed several times. Your reviews really brighten my day.

Thanks to –J who is one of those folks who have reviewed several times and did so again this time. You can just call me Ruth (it's not my real name, I just think it's cool). I actually wrote the Lorne/Faith scene for you; I agreed with your point about the phone ringer scene earlier. Glad you liked it! The spell Willow did to Roger is first mentioned at the beginning of chapter eleven, and comes up again in the conversation between Wesley, Mary, Giles, and Fred in chapter thirteen when Mary mentions Roger's strange rash. This little plotline is finished in chapter twenty. Hope that explains the spell thing.

Thanks for calling my story the best you've read this last year. Very kind of you!

Thanks, crazy4thesun, for you're nice review! More Fresley coming, I promise!


	23. Double Vision

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-three)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter. My husband fell down half a flight of stairs, literally. I'm too busy to write, so I just loaded what I could and left it at that. I'll do my best for the next chapter, but I'm not making any promises. Sorry.

After its initial survey, the electronics van moved out of sight into a deserted warehouse nearby and was joined by other vehicles as the members of the planned assault gathered forces. The new head of security, Thad Tominski, exuded fresh-faced, youthful enthusiasm mixed with an equal measure of confidence in the abilities of his team. Angel eyed the muscular, heavily armed, commando uniformed young man warily; he didn't doubt the efficiency of the team, only its trustworthiness. However, Gunn had discovered an oddity while reading Wolfram and Hart personnel records, and the man standing before Angel now was a result of that discovery. Tominski was the only member of security, in fact, possibly the only inherited employee of Wolfram and Hart, who had refused to sign a perpetuity clause in his contract. It had cost him a considerable reduction in pay compared to his peers, and he was listed as a security risk because of it. Previously at the bottom of the food chain at the corporation and given all the high-risk grunge jobs, Angel immediately moved him to the top after a reading by Lorne. Angel almost trusted him. Almost.

"Sir, I'm sending out sweep teams to check out the surrounding buildings in case the opposition has any observation posts set up," Tominski looked at Angel expectantly.

Angel, standing by a second floor window out of direct reach of the sun's rays, nodded, "Be careful they don't scare any legitimate workers. I don't want any innocent people hurt."

"They know to be discreet, Sir. No one will even know we were there, unless it's a bad guy," Tominski said with assurance. He smiled humorlessly, "And _they_ won't know what hit them."

The teams were driven in small, black vans directly up to access doors to prevent possible observation. After an electronics sweep to determine heat sources and listen for suspicious conversations, the team would enter the warehouses in seconds. Like ghosts, the teams moved noiselessly through the buildings, mostly deserted, and eliminated one-by-one the potential hiding places of spies. Dressed completely in black with ski masks and carrying silenced weapons, they were confident that they were unseen and unheard. As rapidly as they entered, they would leave to move on to the next target.

Henderson, another newly promoted member of security (after the latest purge), slipped to the upper walkways while the other members of his team scouted the lower floor. At one end lay small offices and, hearing a noise, Henderson crouched, pressed his earpiece communicator, and spoke softly, "Bogie at 12." The other members of his team looked up at him and ran silently to the ladders leading up. Henderson moved carefully to the door, peering in through the grimy glass. Turning the knob slowly, he shoved the door open and slipped in sideways, scanning the room for threats. A head appeared through an open doorway on the other side and he was about to fire two rounds into it when he realized it was Franko. Annoyed, he stood and complained, "I could have taken your head off! Figures Ski would screw up and send two teams to the same location. Franko grinned and moved up. He was dressed similarly to Henderson but had taken off his ski mask. Henderson turned to the door to head off his team and remarked back to his co-worker, "They said there weren't any heat sources in this building. Screw-ups!"

Franko's face warped into the ridges of a vampire as he grabbed Henderson from behind and covered the other man's mouth. He chuckled as he commented to the struggling man, "They were right about the heat sources," and he bit down hard into the other's neck.

Henderson's last thought, as the blood drained out of him and a bloody wrist was shoved into his mouth, was the realization that Franko was one of the missing security guards and that Tominski wasn't the only screw-up today.

………….

The team arrived as their masked teammate exited the office and shut the door. He waved them off, muttering, "Mice." The others laughed softly and turned to finish the sweep. Franko smiled coldly as he followed the others.

Inside the recently abandoned office lay an equally abandoned body. The cooling remains would soon rise to answer to a new master. Four other teams would meet the same results in their sweeps.

……………

"Thanks for inviting us, Wesley," Mary said warmly. They were all standing around a table looking over the plans Gunn had brought of the warehouse they were going to attack.

Giles looked a little grumpy, "Yes, but I wish it could have waited until after lunch. It was hard to get those reservations!" At Mary and Wesley's joint looks of disbelief, Giles said patiently, "What? I know it couldn't wait. I'd much rather be bashed over the head than sit down to a nice meal with a beautiful woman." He then grinned disarmingly at both of them.

Mary leaned against the table and smiled back, "So I'm beautiful, am I?"

He leaned in towards her, "Very probably."

Wesley looked annoyed as he crossed his arms, "I could leave if you want and come back later. I just thought the only real watchers around might want to be involved." He smiled a little wryly, "However, if your minds aren't on the job you might just get killed and that would probably get me killed by Buffy in some gruesome manner."

The other two straightened up self-consciously and Giles said, "Sorry. I really do want to be here. By all rights, this should be my problem more that yours. He was a watcher, after all." He looked inquiringly, "But you're wrong about us being the only watchers. Have you forgotten? You're a watcher too now."

Wesley looked startled, "I had actually. Busy week."

"It's nice that someone thinks I'm a watcher;" Mary said dryly, "that concept doesn't fit into Father's paradigm."

"As far as I'm concerned, there's only ever been one really good watcher in our immediate family, Mary," Wesley declared firmly. "I used father as my role model before and we all know what an unmitigated disaster that was. I think I'll use you this time."

Mary looked pleased, but her concern was apparent as she touched Wesley's arm, "You be careful, little brother."

Wesley enveloped her in a hug and agreed, "Yes, and you too."

Mary was startled by the hug at first and then relaxed into its warmth, "If this is an example of what you learned from Fred, she's good for you, Wessy."

Wesley briefly looked over at Fred, who was a short distance away, busy with a clipboard and talking vigorously on a cell phone. He then smiled down at Mary, "Don't call me that, and yes, she is."

She moved away maintaining contact with her hand tenderly, "It's not my fault you couldn't pronounce 'L's' when you were little."

"Yes, well it did make going to the loo problematic," Wesley grinned.

Giles interjected sardonically, "I could leave if you want…?"

"Yes, quite right," Wesley released his sister after another quick hug and leaned over the plans again thoughtfully. He looked up at the other twoand gave a small smile, "I was just taking Angel's advice."

Giles asked curiously, "What advice was that?"

Wesley answered seriously, "Cherishing the little moments with those you care about."

Giles mulled over this for a second and said equally seriously, "Good advice."

Mary agreed, "Yes, I like your friends, Wesley." She leaned over the plans, too, "Well, shall we see if we can tighten up this plan at all?"

Wesley nodded his agreement, "We actually have some time. We can't do anything until they finish the sweep and the truck is set up. Also, we haven't heard an ETA on the helicopter, yet."

Giles leaned against the table, too, "I have a couple of suggestions…

The three grew engrossed with the task at hand leaving the cherished moment as a memory to be retrieved for later, more difficult times.

………………

As Giles and Mary moved away to get equipped for the operation, Fred moved up to Wesley who was still bending over the table and tightly focused on the plans lying in front of him. She had overheard their conversation, but was busy at the time ensuring the science department discreetly sent everything necessary for the planned attack. However, she'd done everything she could think of to make the plan a success, for the moment anyway, and thought it was about time for her and Wesley to take a little of Angel's advice, too.

………………

To be continued…

Note for Non-Brits: A loo is slang for the toilet.

Author's Note: Thank you, you wonderful reviewers! Thanks, gopie!Again! Glad to see you got the point of the Winston-Wesley interaction there, it also shows how their warped relationship was a product of Daddy Dearest. You asked a good question about Wesley's feelings about their relationship. Wesley's view will probably become clearer later. For crazy4thesun, Dragonfly Faith, and Rouge07: two new reviewers! Hoody hoo! Thank you all for reviewing. You all three asked for more Fresley and next chapter you're going to get it, I promise! It's one of my favorite things to write.


	24. Cherishing the Moment

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-four)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Fred moved up to Wesley quietly but was startled when he spoke, "Why is it I can sense your presence without seeing you." He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

Fred smiled back, crinkling up her nose, "Maybe it's your spidey sense. Have you been bitten by a radioactive spider lately?"

Wesley turned and leaned back against the table, "Well, at Wolfram and Hart I suppose anything's possible, but I don't think so. The only bug I've been bitten by lately is the love variety."

Moving up and leaning against him, she grew more serious, the uncertainty clear in her voice, "Is that what you feel? You've never actually said."

Hugging her tight against him, he looked surprised and said playfully, "Really? How could I be so remiss?

She leaned back and smacked his arm lightly, pushing against his arms, half-heartedly trying to get away, "Stop joking! Here I am, tryin' to get a moment to cherish and you're making jokes!"

Suddenly deadly serious, he cupped her face in both hands and looked deeply into her eyes, his words filled with the urgency of his feelings, "I love you more than life itself. I don't feel alive when you're away and you take my breathe away when you're near. I have loved you always; I will love you always." He looked at her for another moment to make sure she understood the seriousness of his words and then gently kissed her. They both deepened the kiss as it carried them far from the grimy surroundings to the cherished moment both craved.

……………..

Angel, leaning against the van, watched his two dear friends and thought, that in all his existence, his advice had never been better given or better used. He then turned away from the so dearly private scene.

……….

Later, Fred leaned her head against Wesley's chest and commented softly, "Wow! That was just…amazing.

He chuckled lightly, "Well, I've had worse reactions to my kisses."

She was enjoying the steady beat of his heart combined with the rumbling of his laughter against her ear as she replied absently, "Oh, _that _was good," but at his snort of laughter at her halfhearted response, she qualified it, "_very good!_ But I really meant…you're pretty darn romantic when you want to be." She dragged her head reluctantly away from the warmth of his chest and looked up at him sadly, "You said…, I mean, how long _have_ you loved me really, Wesley?"

Wesley answered simply, "Always."

She looked guilty, "Oh, Wesley! I'm so sorr…"

He pressed his finger against her mouth to silence her, "No, don't be sorry. Neither of us were ready then. Remember what you said? We have no control over who we were then, just who we are now. And from my perspective, I'm just glad we got here."

She kissed the tip of his finger lovingly and he groaned, "You minx."

She smiled lopsidedly, "Well, if your mouth is gonna be so far away, what do you expect?"

He bent over to kiss her, saying, "You are absolutely right."

……….

Faith watched the tender sight and smirked. _She was guessin' that the negotiatin' was over._

……….

Fred was back in her favorite spot, her ear pressed against his chest, listening to that inexpressible essence that was Wesley, "So, what do you think your father is going to think about this operation?"

"I don't especially care," Wesley said firmly. "Anyway, don't you think we've talked enough about my family? What about your's? How do you think they'll react to me?"

Fred smiled rather regretfully, "Well, I think my Daddy likes you a lot more than your Daddy." She snuggled closer, "Isn't that sad."

"Yes, as Roger's go, he's better," Wesley's smile was bittersweet.

Fred startled look showed she hadn't made the connection until he'd brought it up, "They are both called Roger, aren't they."

Wesley nodded, "I like your Roger more. I bet he was…is…a good father."

Fred agreed, "Yes." She looked at him, her head cocked to the side thoughtfully, "I bet you would be a good father, too."

Wesley laughed bitterly, "I don't know if I would or not, but I do know I'd try and that's more that my father ever did."

"Maybe we should go visit my folks after this. I know they'd love us to come," Fred suggested.

"Maybe we should." He looked back at the ignored plans, "after this."

………….

"Okay, anybody have any more ideas on how to improve the plan?" Angel looked around the table. The silence was loud and clear. He looked at Tominski questioningly.

The security leader piped up immediately, "The teams should be done with their sweep in five minutes, Sir, and the helicopter is standing by.

Gunn added in more information, "The truck is in place and hooking up right now, they estimate fifteen minutes."

Angel looked around at the group and "Okay, we'll plan to go in twenty minutes, unless there are any problems." Everyone nodded and people scattered to each get their piece of the plan ready to go.

The radio on Tominski's shoulder crackled to life as one of the warehouse observers reported, "Sir? A medium sized truck just pulled into the warehouse." Tominski checked to make sure that Angel heard and then double clicked an acknowledgement.

Angel and the security leader hurried over to the electronics van and the man inside immediately spoke up, "Sir, there are numerous heat sources in the back of the truck and two in the cab. They could be demons; it's hard to pick out between heat sources but, based on the conversations I'm picking up from the truck, it sounds like humans, scared humans. I'm guessing they're hostages, Sir." He looked up aprehensively at his new bosses, "Twenty-five or thirty of them and they sound like kids, teenagers maybe."

Angel and Tominski looked at each other grimly. The security leader offered, "I better brief my teams."

"Right," Angel agreed, "and then look me up. We need to rethink the plan."

"Yes, Sir," and Tominski was off at a run.

Angel stepped outside the van and pulled out his phone to inform the gang, they all needed to be in on this.

……………

The truck stopped and vampires moved up throwing open the doors. Inside, scared teenagers, obviously street kids by their appearance, backed away between large crates, in the back of the truck, from the warped faces outside. One vampire ordered the frightened teens, "Get those crates out, now!" A woman, blocked from view by the teens at the front said firmly, "Do what they say. Don't give them any excuse to hurt us." As the youths complied, some dropping to the hard floor of the warehouse nervously, the young, blonde woman came to the fore attempting to keep everyone calm. It was Anne, the head of the youth shelter and Gunn's friend. The vampires had the twenty or so teens bring the boxes out one by one and deposit them carefully on the floor in specific, but seemly random spots so that when the crates were all off the truck, they were scattered around the dirty warehouse floor without apparent rhyme or reason.

…………….

In the passenger side of the truck's cab, on the floor, huddled a small misshapen figure. Bobby Turlough, know as 'Turf' on the street for his enthusiastic defense of his crew's tiny piece of the streets, shut off the engine and sat nervously in the driver's seat trying not to look at the thing lying practically at his feet, "W-w-we're h-here." Outside, he could hear the vampires telling the others to move crates. In relief, he grabbed the handle, "I better get out there. Sounds like they want me."

The creature grabbed his foot with an unbelievable strength belied by his size. Its distorted multi-layered voice ate inside the confines of sanity within Bobby's brain as it spoke, "_Stay. We want you mooore._" Bobby tried to break away, to jump out of the cab to the relative safety of vampires, but he found he couldn't move. How much more distressing it was when he found that he couldn't scream, either. With that, something unspeakably slimy slithered and undulated in his mind, eating from the inside out, until Bobby was no more.

Walt Mavrey, the electronic technician in the van, watched the screen carefully for changes and was surprised, and slightly distressed, as the one of the two figures in the cab slowly disappeared as a heat source. About to call out to Mr. Angel standing just outside the van, a strange feeling came over him.

It felt much better now that it had fed. Reaching out into the ether, it searched for minds observing it and tasted one nearby. Savoring the fainter tang of distant observation after the heady gorging of an immediate presence, it wrapped itself delicately around the morsel and tugged gently.

Walt jerked in his chair violently; his body stiffened in agony for a moment and then collapsed soundlessly against the control panel. Several of the monitors briefly lost their pictures in the disturbing miasma of chaos that projected itself eerily onto the electronic static flowing through them.

Walt lifted his head, momentarily disoriented and, as the screens came back on line, he shook his head groggily and began to tweak controls to improve the incoming data. Deep inside his subconscious mind, a sense of slimy contamination lingered and unconsciously he inwardly cringed from its source and did not see the origin of it on the screens. Totally ignored and unobserved by the electronics technician, the sole heat source in the cab moved out towards the back of the truck and was lost in the crowd.

…………

A tanker truck squatted stolidly next to an opened manhole. A giant hose ran from the truck and snaked down into the darkness of the opening. A man, dressed like a city waterworks employee, stood looking down into the hole, irritation plain on his face and in his voice, "Come on, bub. Ya' know the kinda flack I'm takin' over this. Get it done already."

A face popped up out of the hole and cheerily waved, "We're in. You can turn it on any time you want."

The first worker lifted a radio and said succinctly, "Surf's up!"

………..

Angel pulled on the silver suit, grumbling as he awkwardly jerked around, bouncing up and down dorkily, to get the suit up and over his clothes. Fred tried mightily not to laugh…and failed.

………...

"This all must be pretty bad for you, Wes," Gunn looked sideways at Wes as he spoke.

Wesley, watching the warehouse closely, and listening over his headset at the chatter as people got set, ignored the comment, "Let's go, Gunn. It's time."

Gunn looked at Wesley, his face showing conflicting emotions, "It's just, I know what it was like takin' out my sister, Alonna."

Wesley's face was expressionless as he looked directly at Gunn and replied, "It is bad. But frankly, you were more of a brother to me than Winston ever was." He broke off eye contact, started to stride towards the side of the warehouse.

Gunn grabbed the sleeve of Wes's jacket and Wesley looked back. The look on Gunn's face was determined, but Wesley could see a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. Gunn held his right hand out to the side. Wesley looked at it, looked back at Gunn, and then slowly smiled. Wesley put his hand out and their hands slapped together in their special handshake, both their hands ending on their chests, over their hearts. They looked at each other for a second, something in both men's eyes that neither had seen in a long time.

Then, Gunn shoved at Wesley's shoulder playfully and said, "Come on. What's taking you so long?" as he moved on towards the warehouse.

Wesley laughed shortly, shook his head disbelievingly, and followed his friend and then, three groups separated, each with their own set goal.

_It slunk down the corridor to its objective. The dead meat looked at it and said arrogantly, "Who are you?" It changed so the dead meat could see its true form. "Oh, y-y-yeah," said the dead meat as it fumbled for the doorknob and pushed open the door, stumbling away hurriedly. It could taste the fear without seeking contact. Amused, it pushed away the cold sensations as if jostling with a rude passerby. It had no interest in the dead, only the living._

The vampire clutched, missed, grabbed again, and snagged the door handle. He started to slam the door shut, but at the last second, thinking better of it, he softly closed the door instead and shot the bolt in place locking the _thing_ on the other side. Taking a deep, unnecessary, but stress-relieving breath, he nervously took his position in front of the door again.

Author's Note:

Sorry about the lateness of the update. Problems both personal and technical make life fun. When life was good, it was very, very mediocre and when it was bad, it sucked. This is the third time I've tried to upload this puppy. Hope it works this time.

The Wes, Gunn scene was a request by Tariq. I wrote it a long time ago, but it took this long to come up in the story. Hope you like it. This one's for you.

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Thanks to Dragonfly Faith! It is always of the good to have classic Giles with just a touch of Ripper if necessary. Hope you enjoy the fresley! Thanks -J! Aren't you sweet! Bet you have to beat them off with a stick! Glad you liked the Lorne, Faith and Wes, Mary, and Giles scenes (I had to rework that scene, I didn't want Giles to come off as whiney, just humorous). I never met a Thad person in Britian; I suppose they could be out there hiding somewhere. Ya never know. It was important to show that Gunn was doing important stuff for the team. He's gonna have fun in the fight. Yes, I would make season 5 a better place. Actually that's my next story (one thing at a time). Didn't intend to inply any guy/guy stuff with the killing of the security team member. However, there has always been an erotic undertone to vampire fiction, all the way back to Bram Stoker and Bela Lugosi. Something to do with the vulnerability associated with contact with another's neck and the warped mimicry of 'hugging' the victim during the kill (and also a ridiculous number of scantily clad, buxom, beautiful, fainting women victims). By the way, I don't mind slash; I read it (among many other things) and some of it is very, very well written (Wesleysgirl come to mind immediately). It justisn't my cup of tea to write. Enjoy the fresley. There will be some Fred stuff by her self later, too. I don't know if I can fit in another Faith, Fred double team of Wes, but if I can, I will. Thanks gopie! By the way, I'm really enjoying your stories too (especially the Faith, Wes one). Yes, I think the Wes, Mary, Giles scene worked very well in many ways. Sorry to hear you were teased. Mean kids. Thanks very much for the virtual card, I really got a hoot out of it and it really perked me up! Hubby is better, nothing broken at least (Thank God!). Thanks t87gan! Very kind words. Hope you like this chapter too. Thanks to crazy4thesun! Glad you enjoyed the chapter. Hope you like the fresley!


	25. The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-five)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

The pilot did his final checks as he awaited the team that he was going to transport. He was settled some distance away from the target warehouse to keep their operation secret as long as possible. Another security team member, dressed in black from head to toe, hurried up to the helicopter and opened the pilot's door reporting succinctly, "They'll be here in three." The pilot nodded and reached down to start the engine as the other man reached in and snapped the pilot's neck.

……………..

Davis hung on the van door and looked both ways for Farber. Where was the man? Farber was one of the new hires and it figured that the 'bat team' would screw-up and hire a screw-up. That was the price of hiring for political correctness instead of efficiency. Apparently, a heart of gold did not coincide with the on-time, in-place mentality necessary to security operations. Giles, sitting on a bench along the wall of the van, inquired, "What's the hold-up?"

Davis looked back briefly, annoyed, took another quick survey of the outside, and slammed the door shut, banging the wall of the van loudly and replying tersely, "Nothing, let's go." He settled next to the woman who, like the other Brit and the rest of the team, was outfitted in the security all-black uniform and carrying a colorful, enormous, strangely modified, plastic weapon, as the van sped away from the headquarters' warehouse.

…………

Wesley, Fred, Faith, and five security team members bent over to approach the noisy helicopter and rapidly entered. As soon as they settled in, the pilot, someone who was neither Farber (although he had replaced him) or the original pilot (although he had replaced him, too), pulled the joystick back swiftly taking the group to the ambush of Winston's warehouse. Beneath them, a body in the warehouse cooled from the position where it had been carelessly thrown behind several barrels nearby.

…………

Angel sat inside the oversized van with Gunn, Tominski and one-third of the security team. Angel looked at Gunn sitting across from him. Unlike all the others, Gunn was carrying a flame thrower and conducting a last minute check of the adjustments. Angel watched thoughtfully and commented, "So how's it feel to have the only real area effect weapon?"

Gunn grinned, "You gave it to the right dude." He looked over the comparatively unarmed Angel in seemingly innocent inquiry, "So, don't you feel a little naked?"

Gunn had the impression that Angel would have blushed in embarrassment if he were able; in any case, he shifted uncomfortably, "That's all right, we, uh, have Fred's specials." He held up the large bright purple and pink colored gun. Gunn snorted and then both men grinned at Fred's handiwork.

Everyone was wearing radio headsets and could hear the other teams as each reached its position. The headsets crackled as Mary's voice said calmly "Two ready," followed immediately by Wes' voice, the whirring sound of rotor blades in the background clear, "Three ready."

Angel nodded to Tominski, who immediately pressed the button on his headset, "One ready; all teams, go." The driver grinned widely and pressly ruthlessly down on the gas pedal flattening it to the floor and the van lurched forward rapidly picking up speed with its unexpectedly powerful engine roaring. At the other end of the van from Angel and Gunn, the vampiric Franko sat holding another of the colorful weapons; however, inside his vest was secreted a more deadly uzi—more deadly to humans anyway.

……………

From an observation post in the upper office areas of one of the supposedly cleared warehouses, an observer clicked on a walkie-talkie, "Here they come." Over the radio, a double-click acknowledged the information. Sitting in perfect safety, further in the room at an array of monitors, Winston smiled broadly and leaned back to enjoy the show. Down below, the giant warehouse doors were opened wide on the broad expanse of empty cement floor, awaiting the eventual entrance of his prey.

…………

Approaching two opposite sides of the warehouse, the two vans, outfitted with heavily reinforced battering rams smashed through carefully selected weak points in the warehouse like they were paper and squealed in maneuvers that caused the vans to do 180's leaving the back doors of the vehicles facing into the warehouse. Startled vampires and human teens alike ran out of the way of the vans. The van's doors banged open and, Angel and Gunn leading the way on one side and Giles and Mary on the other, the Wolfram and Hart forces leaped out. Everyone was wearing the all black uniforms and bulletproof vests of the security forces; however, Gunn had left off his ski mask and his face was clearly visible in the crowd of faceless armed masses.

Anne, the woman who ran the teen shelter that had been raided for the human hostages the vampires were using, smiled at the sight of Gunn, her friend, said softly under her breath, _"All right!"_ and yelled out to the kids, "We're being rescued, everybody down!" She pushed two kids nearest to her down and several of the teens reacted to her words by ducking down and taking cover behind the boxes and the truck.

……….

Overhead, a helicopter landed softly on the roof and discharged its passengers. Faith leaped out in front, as security people peeled off to the right and left and their appointed tasks, and she grinned back at Wes and Fred gleefully, "Let's rock and roll!"

…………

_The meat in the room was weakened by the feeding of the dead ones. Tempting as it was to feed on these helpless morsels, it knew it needed to save itself for the coming work. Instead, it sliced small, delicately delightful appetizers from the food and shaped the remainder meticulously into soft mush. The meat in the room would not warn their 'rescuers' and that was all that was important. Now to shape itself into an appropriately non-threatening form and await the liberators that would set it freeeeeee._

Author's Note: I suppose I should apologize for the late and short update, but my son is in the hospital and that's all there is to say about that. Did I mention my life sucks? Spring break is coming up and I hope to do a bigger update next time. Hope everyone enjoys what I was able to write. It feels like this battle has been coming on fooooreeeveeer.

As usual, thanks to my wonderful reviewers. Thanks gopie (you're gonna have to tell me where that name comes from, I really like it)! Yeah, I liked the Roger connection, too. I wonder why Joss did it or if it was just a coincidence? Glad you liked Anne and the Gunn, Wes scenes. I especially missed the buddy-movie bonding that Gunn and Wes used to share. I was really sorry that they never really tried to retrieve it. More mystery entity in this chapter and much more later. Thanks t87gan, glad you enjoyed the Wes/Fred scene, I had to work on it for a while. I wanted it to be at least as interesting as the Giles, Mary, Wes scene earlier and it wasn't working at first. Glad you liked the chapter.


	26. And May the Better Manpire Win

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-six)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

…………

Angel, ignoring the plastic weapon he carried, pulled out a stake he'd stashed away and attacked a vampire that charged too quickly for the longer-range weapons. Stabbing it to dust, he stationed himself in front of Gunn to allow the other man time to work.

Gunn roared loudly, "Everybody get down!" in an echo of Anne's warning to the teenagers who were scrambling to find safety in the vampire filled warehouse. He then took a quick survey of the area, including the upper area, noting the large number of vampires everywhere. He smiled and spoke loudly into his radio, "Hang 10! Hang 10! Hang 10!" Then he calmly pointed the flamethrower, not at the vampires on the upper walkways, but at the center of the roof.

…………

Outside the warehouse, the worker, George Pemberly, stood next to the manhole and leaned against the giant truck looking incredibly bored. At the "Hang 10" signal that came over the radio, he reached up and casually turned the valve on full; then he spoke dispassionately into the radio, "Da kine," adding with a little sarcasm, "_brah_." George watched the hose bulge and fill as the fluid inside moved from the truck rapidly down the manhole and out of sight. Then he leaned against the truck again, utterly bored and slightly irritated at the codewords the security department had inflicted on them for this operation. _Must be someone with a surfer fetish, he mused, or a warped sense of humor. After all, sun and surf slang for an operation run by a vampire?—oh yeah, definitely warped._

………….

Giles and Mary's team attacked from the far side, sandwiching the vampires between the two groups and relentlessly closing as they fired their plastic high-powered water guns. The holy water streaming from their guns caused the vampires to back off as the painful acid-like effects hit. Most of the teenagers who saw the security forces streamed past their rescuers; some of the street-wise teens grabbed up anything weapon-like and joined in the fight; while others crouched behind boxes, too frightened to flee.

Anne moved cautiously to stand beside Gunn who was firing the flamethrower at the ceiling. She reached for the stake she was sure he was carrying stuck in the back of his pants and then, like Angel, watched for threats. His eyes flickered towards her briefly and widened in surprise; then he smiled as he saw her take the stake, but he kept his attention on his work overhead. He risked a comment, still keeping his eyes looking up, "So what's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

Anne kept her eyes in front of her searching for approaching vamps, as she drawled lightly in response, "_I_ was invited to this party _forcibly_. Sooo, how about you?"

"Party crasher."

She smiled, "I really like consistency in a man"

"Cool."

They both smiled and then concentrated on their chosen tasks.

………..

The flames from Gunn's weapon threw flickering light and odd shadows on the upper walkways. The vampires stationed there clutched their machine guns as theywaited impatiently, and a little nervously,for the start signal from their team leader, who was listening with equal impatience for the go-ahead on the radio. All of the vampires were wearing police swat team uniforms. Over the radio came the answer, "The mouse is not going into the main warehouse. You can go hot." The team leader waved and the vampires grinned as they each pulled a grenade-like object from their bandolier, yanked the pin with their teeth and dropped the objects to the floor below. White smoke billowed from each canister and the humans engulfed in the flow were overwhelmed and dropped to the floor coughing helplessly. Some of the vampires on the floor began to attack their helpless victims. Then the vampires readied their machine guns.

…………

Gunn, in the meantime, had continued to wave the flamethrower back and forth, flame licking hotly over the network of pipes far overhead that hugged the roof. Sprinklers sputtered to life under the open flame and sprayed water down on the hapless humans and vampires alike, but it also fortuitously damped down the smoke shooting from the canisters at the same time. Humans still coughed but were mostly not disabled, and they struggled to stand and seek safer ground. The W&H security forces had donned gas masks and emerged from the drowned gaseous mists firing on the vampires on the floor with their plastic weapons. The holy water hissed as it splashed over the undead. The vampires that were hit writhed, screamed, and retreated as smoke wafted from their damaged bodies.

As soon as the sprinklers started, Gunn instantly redirected his attention, and his flamethrower, to the vampires on the upper walkways. Two torched violently like flash paper, and the others aimed their machine guns at the source of the flame. Suddenly, they all screamed, some dropped their machine guns as they covered their heads or fell off the walkway in their frenzy or frantically ran as they sought cover. The vampires on the warehouse floor also reacted violently as if doused in acid, but to even greater effect. More exposed, the vampires on the ground felt more of the effects of the holy water streaming out of the water sprinklers. Screaming as they literally melted away to nothing, the water left the room free of vampires. Teenagers throughout the room looked around stunned and then began to cheer.

……..

In the other warehouse, where Winston was watching the events on the monitors, he leaned forward and said shortly, "Oh, bloody hell! You just can't get competent help these days." Then, impatient, he burst out, "Get on with it! Tell them!" The minion at the window called on his radio urgently while Winston fumed. In one of the offices behind him, several figures hid and waited—and watched.

…….

Franko, who had taken care to stay as far away from Angel as possible, dropped the toy gun and pulled out the uzi, drawing a bead on the humans in front of him: security team, teenagers, and Gunn. Two other disguised vampires, one on Franko's side of the fray and the other in Giles and Mary's group, did the same thing.

The one on the far side was standing near Mary and grinned with glee as he planned his attack. He would start with the more dangerous man and then sweep the security team and then, finally, thewoman. He carefully took aim at Giles and thought—_a watcher, ha! Watch this! _

To be continued…..

Author's note: Sorry to make it so short and to leave it at a cliffhanger. Can't be helped. I just don't have time to more now. Next update in mid-May (somewhere around or after the 15th), after I graduate! Hoody-hoo! Hopefully more regular updates after that.

Thanks to my nice reviewers: Thanks gopie! I appreciate you explaining the nickname. It's a fun name. Oh yes, purple and pink. Angel is very fun when he's dorky. Entity is smart and sneaky…and icky. Son is doing better. We're keeping our fingers crossed (smileys delivered). Thank you. Thank you goldenshadows and t87gan and mysti! Your kind words and patience are appreciated. You guys rock! Thanks –J! You always take the time to write a lot. Yes, the entity is very icky. I take it as a kudo that you feel that way (your response was very funny). But it is also very fun to write. "_We need you moooore. We need to feeeed!" _Hmmm. I could almost be talking about authors' need for reviewers. Good point about Angel. I decided that it's a matter of attention. If he's thinking about it, he can probably see the vamp. Franko worked to stay out of his way. To be honest though, in the series, it was never clear cut about the ability to detect vamps. They tended to do whatever fit the story, so I did the same. I don't have any definite plans for Gunn and Anne. Anybody care one way or the other? I'm willing to listen. Otherwise, I'll just go where the muse takes me. Big thank you to Midnightzstorm! Welcome back! Thanks for the nice words about the Fred support, Faith dialogue. I worked especially hard on the Winston-Wes flashbacks, Wes/Fred scenes, and the Wes/Gunn scene. Glad you liked the result. Bringing in Anne was a last minute idea. I decided to have hostages, and who are better hostages than characters the audience already knows. Hope you like her in this chapter too.


	27. The Red Hot Glow of Life

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-seven)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

On the roof, as Wesley, Fred, and Faith waited with varying degrees of impatience, the security team spread out and moved carefully as they pointed electronic devices—motion, heat and sound detectors—at the roof's surface. After locating a particular spot on the roof, they worked as a team to efficiently squeeze a plastic-like goop into a large outline of a circle, drop a timed detonator device into the goop, and push a button igniting it. The large, round, metallic portion of roof dropped through the flimsy false ceiling in the way and on through to the hallway beneath it, thwacking a surprised vampire standing in front of a door in the hallway. The direct sunlight beamed in like a spotlight and the stunned vampire disintegrated in a flash of flame. The team, about to drop inside and check the area, was stopped by Faith, who stepped through and dropped easily down the hole first. The team silently followed. Wesley looked at Fred and then crouched down to grip the edge and lower himself. Once beneath, after looking around for immediate threats and seeing none, he reached up and with an easy grace Fred dropped into his arms. She smiled at him from her vantage point. He held her for a moment, smiled in return, and then let her slip down.

Faith ran up and smirked, "Ya' know, I save that kinda' stuff for after."

Wesley ignored Faith's remark and looked over the supposed entry to the hostages, an ordinary door with a simple bolt on the outside. He looked over at Faith inquiringly, "I assume everything is clear, Faith?"

Faith looked a little worried, "Yeah, it's clear and the team is set." In the dim light, the two parts of the security team were barely visible at each end of the hallway, obviously prepared for any threat. Faith kept looking around like she expected vampires to jump out of the woodwork somehow.

Fred asked, looking at the door curiously, "Is it locked?"

Wesley looked a little surprised and worried, "Well, yes, but just with this bolt, I think…and that worries me. Perhaps it's a trap." He straightened and looked at the two women with concern, "I can't imagine any other reason why my brother would have this arrangement. He's been recruiting vampires and turning people for his little army. Why keep people alive in this…way."

Fred shifted her large water gun and said matter-of-factly, "Maybe it's a larder."

Wesley looked askance at Fred at this comment, "Fred!" He looked at the door and back at her in consternation, "Dear lord."

"Hey, Wes, let's figure it out later. Okay? Right now," Faith lifted her foot, "I vote we check what's in the frig," and, with that, she kicked the door open and moved in.

………

On the warehouse floor, as the vampire disguised as a security guard aimed his uzi, obviously with the intent to shoot, at Giles, Anne saw the strange action and cried out a warning, "Look out!" pointing at the danger. Both Giles and Mary looked at where she pointed; Giles knew he was dead.

Mary, closest to the threat, unexpectedly did a spin kick just as the automatic weapon fired, causing a spray of bullets to discharge harmlessly over the heads of everyone and creating a diagonal trail on the far wall. Following up her kick with flurry of extremely efficient blows, Mary dropped the shocked vampire to the ground in seconds, the creature bloodied and obviously dazed.

………

_It watched as the living meat entered the room and reached lightly to read the surface of their thoughts…and then recoiled mentally in fear from the power-imbued creature in front of it…Murdererrrrr._

Faith stood crouched in a battle ready poise but soon realized there was no enemy in sight. Slowly rising to a standing position, she surveyed the weak, helpless humans lying around the room. Kneeling by one, a woman, she felt the bloody, bitten neck for a pulse found it—faint but regular. Wesley and Fred made similar checks with similar results and the three smiled at each other in relief. Faith stood abruptly and said, "We better move them to the heli…" The sound of machine gun fire from downstairs interrupted her and she ran quickly to the door and paused uncertainly, obviously torn between a need to help Angel and the others below and her duty to protect Wesley and Fred and the hostages. She looked at Wesley urgently, the question clear in her eyes.

"Better stay," Wesley said regretfully. "We have to trust them to do their part." He looked around at the helpless humans lying around the room, "At least until we're sure things are secure here."

Faith looked down the hallway again and then looked back and nodded her agreement reluctantly, "Yeah, I'll call the helicopter and get the guys moving on loading the civilians." She moved out of sight, speaking into her headset as her footsteps receded down the hall towards one of the security team positions.

_It longed to attack the murderer but knew the Slayer-beasts were too difficult to kill, their minds too difficult to influence. In any case, it had a job to do and the she-devil was not a part of it. It must wait for the powerful one to leave. At least it would get to play with the master…this job would be a pleasure. Now, if only the she-devil would leave the area._

Fred looked thoughtfully around the room at the five humans lying listlessly against the walls, "Hey, Wes, in the briefing, didn't the electronics technician tell us there were four humans up here?"

Wesley looked around frowning and said sharply, "Back up, Fred!" As she complied, a little startled, Wesley pressed on his earpiece and spoke urgently while keeping the group of 'survivors' covered, "Three to Alpha, how many humans are in the room with us?"

Walt Mavrey looked closely at the screen showing the upper office areas and his vision jumped and blurred briefly as he tried to distinguish the heat sources.

_Ah, the meat, the slayer-master, that the employer wanted was suspicious. If it wanted, it could reach the smaller morsel before the taller could stop it. But the employer had a plan. Sighing inwardly, it reached out into the nebulous waves of ether for the mind it had touched before and sifted carefully, pushing, molding, crafting the food into the intricately subtle changes in designs necessary for its purpose. _

"Mavrey! What's going on there! Wesley grew nervous at the failure to response and looked over the potential threats warily.

Mavrey shook his head as his mind reconfigured and allowed him to see the screen accurately again. Hmmm, one, two, three…, "Alpha to Three, I count seven, repeat, seven heat sources in the room and five outside in the hallway."

……

Faith toggled the headset again and tried to get the message through once again to the helicopter pilot, "Crap, this thing isn't working." The security guard shrugged and grinned a little in amusement. She turned her back to him sharply in irritation as she repeated her message over the crocked equipment. She kept looking over her shoulder. _What the hell is going on? I can't stop getting the feeling that something is watching me. She met the eyes of the security guard briefly and then turned away again. Wait a minute, his eyes…what was wrong with his eyes? _As she was about to turn, she saw Fred step into the hallway.

……

Wesley started to relax. _With him and Fred in the room, seven heat sources made the count right. They must have added…wait…if there were five security guards and Faith out in the hallway, that would make six heat sources…but Mavrey had said there were…_ He and Fred looked at each other with mutual growing realization and both said aloud at the same time, "Five!"

_To be continued…_

Author's note: Sorry for the delay. The whole graduation scene and acceptance to graduate school was more complicated than I thought. However, good news! I should now be able to update regularly! Expect the next chapter in two weeks and then every two weeks after that. I may even speed up the process to every week, but I won't commit to that at this time. You might want to check on Friday a week from now to see if I updated earlier. Otherwise it will be the Friday after that. I have some time to get this puppy done now and I plan to do exactly that!

Thanks to my reviewers! Thanks to Gopie! There'll be more Winston. Don't worry. Glad you like the military feel. It's hard to write. Thanks to deadlymistress24! Not making any promises about anybody not dying--but I generally like happy endings, so hang in there when things get tough. Definitely more Wes/Fred coming but there's some plot in the way. Faster updating coming up. Sorry for all the waiting. I appreciate yours and others patience as I wend my way throug my difficult life. However, things should go a whole lot faster now. Thanks to Midnightzstorm! I really appreciate your persistence. Gunn will not be the bad guy in my story. He was never the bad guy. Fred choose him. That's all. The whole Connor thing just messed everyone up. It isn't necessary to bring Gunn down in or to raise Wesley up. Got any preferences about Anne and Gunn? I haven't decided whether to do anything with them or not. I'm open to suggestions if you have a preference, especially since you've made such efforts to review my stuff.


	28. To Each Watcher a Little Blood Must Fall

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-eight)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Moving with near military precision, Fred and Wesley stepped out into the hallway raising their plastic water guns in tandem in Faith's direction. Both saw the security guard raising his uzi at Faith's back as she was turning to look back at him. Wesley cried out a warning that crystallized what Faith's instincts had been trying to tell her and, with the instantaneous reactions of her slayer heritage, Faith changed her turn into a spin kick that slammed the traitorous security guard into the wall. His gun flew out of his hands and slid down the hallway out of sight past the second, extremely surprised, security guard. Shaking off the blow, the traitor pushed himself off the wall and struck out at the deceptively small woman, but she ducked and then slammed him back again as her other hand started to pull out a stake.

Wesley and Fred opened fire spraying the hallway with holy water with surprising force, but the suspected vampire security guard seemed unaffected. The only effect was to soak Faith. She looked annoyed at the pair and then stabbed the stake into what her highly attuned senses confirmed was a vampire.

As the dust wafted around her, she looked hard at the remaining security guard who quickly backed off, hands raised, his shock clear even through the ski mask he wore. Deciding he was neither a threat nor a vampire, she turned to face her companions who'd stopped firing. After a quick, but hard look at the three security guards at the other end of the corridor, and the dismissal of those guards as a threat too, Faith focused a sour eye on Wes and Fred.

Propping her hands on her hips in annoyance, hair and clothes still dripping with holy water, she said in irritation (but in a calculated move, carefully threw her shoulders back so her chest pushed forward), "Hey, I know you guys got my back, but what do you think this is? A wet t-shirt contest?" Although Faith had worn the all-black commando outfit everyone else was wearing (at least from the waist down), she had opted, with characteristic flair, to just wear a black tank top. Also totally in character, the water made it obvious that she considered bras unnecessary.

Wesley coughed and turned to look briefly at Fred and then quickly away to intently scrutinize the other end of the hallway. The security team at that end didn't appear to feel any embarrassment at the attributes they saw displayed and they grinned openly at the sight. At Wesley's frown, their grins disappeared, and the trio abruptly turned to resume their guard of the empty corridor at their end.

Fred looked at Wesley and the guards at both ends of the hallway and said, half-amused and half-irritated, "Men!" and marched down to Faith whose irritation was lost to a smirk at the men's response. Behind Faith, the one remaining security guard at her end had moved up after the fight and was surreptitiously trying to look over Faith's shoulder but moved away smartly at Fred's approach.

Faith grinned, "I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't pin it down." Looking at the dust at her feet, she absently twirled her stake dexterously and continued, "Guess I pinned it down finally." Sobering at a sudden thought, she stopped twirling the stake and looked down the hall at her watcher, "Hey, Wes. If we had a vamp rent-a-cop, what about Angel and the rest?"

Wesley nodded and said simply, "Go."

Hesitantly, she started to go and then looked at him for a second longer to make sure. He waved her away firmly, "We're good. Go!" With that, she took off at a run.

…..

Angel, seeing that the source of the gunfire was a security guard that Mary seemed to have under control, suddenly realized that the man was a vampire. Cursing at his failure to recognize the threat earlier, he scanned the rest of the security guards and immediately focused on two that were raising their weapons at the humans. "Gunn!" Angel warned his friend and in a smooth, single, incredibly fast motion, Angel both drew and threw a stake at one of the two vamps. The skewered vampire looked down in shock at the stake in his chest and then exploded in a shower of dust. All of the Wolfram and Hart team members immediately grasped the implications and began to search for more targets.

However, warned by Angel, Gunn found the other vampire security guard first and, seeing a clear field of fire, took aim just as the vampire began firing a spread that promised to kill half the teenagers they had just saved. With a floomph the flamethrower arced a white-hot bridge of molten lava instantly immolating the hapless Franko. The loud rattle of machine gun fire stopped leaving a loud silence, only broken by the roar of the flame thrower. And then, that stopped too.

Giles' attention returned to Mary after watching Angel and Gunn's actions with astonishment. Quickly overcoming his surprise at still being alive, he ran up to help Mary, despite his firm conviction that she was quite capable of handling the situation by herself. "Are-are you a slayer?" he asked in confusion. At her look, he felt sure he'd guessed wrong.

She smiled and said shortly, "I'll explain later." She gazed down curiously at the security guard she'd pummeled into insensibility: "I didn't realize he was a vampire until Angel and Gunn took care of the others. Let's see why these vampires were able to be out in broad daylight with us." She pulled the ski mask off the vampire exposing a silver suit identical to Angel's. Giles and Mary exchanged chagrined glances at the irony that the suits probably were issued from the same supply room.

Silently, Giles offered a stake to Mary and she grimly staked the still incoherent vampire. Giles picked up the uzi off the floor, "Not really much for guns, but just in case…"

Mary nodded approvingly as they both looked around at the remains of the warehouse battlefield. Nevertheless, the war seemed to be over. Most of the humans in the large open space appeared relieved but somewhat in shock, still grasping their unexpected salvation provided by the men (and women) in black.

Gunn gave Angel a high five that Angel awkwardly returned with a grin. "Not quite as naked as you look," Gunn said admiringly.

"Can't knock the classics," Angel replied, still scanning the room for threats.

"Still, upgrades are good too," Gunn patted his flamethrower with loving care as it continued to drip tiny liquid drops of fire to the floor.

"Right now, I love 'em both," Anne commented wryly.

"Hey!" Don't go wastin' any love on the 500 year old dead dude," Gunn spoke in pretended outrage.

"Don't worry, Gunn. I'm way past my vampire groupie days," Anne patted his arm reassuringly.

"Hey, I'm not that old!" Angel realized what he'd said and then continued, "Well, yeah, I am, but I'm 450 tops." At their combined looks of amused disbelief at his words, he mumbled under his breath, "Hey, you look this good after 450 years."

"Hey, Angel," Faith called from the walkway above and then nimbly jumped down from the superstructure to stand directly in front of the startled vampire. She continued more discreetly, "some of the security guys are vamps." She glanced around quickly looking for vampires regardless of their apparent friend or foe status.

Angel reassured her quickly, "Yeah, we got that memo already."

"Damn!" Faith said in dismay, "I was hopin' to get a little more action down here."

Gunn inquired with a grin, "'Damn' is right, girl. Who threw you into the pool? Gotta say, you probably been killing vamps dead with just that look."

Anne shoved him good naturedly, "Gunn!"

Her tone mocking, Faith repeated Anne's exclamation, "Gunn!" But she was careful to throw her shoulders back again, enjoying the opportunity to disconcert the men.

Angel was able to look away, amused at the young woman's mind games. Gunn was not.

Anne jabbed at Gunn a little more sharply, saying with a tone of infinite patience, "Gunn, your tongue is hanging out."

"What? Oh…ahhh, sorry." With an effort, he looked around the room and attempted to concentrate on the scene of people picking their way through the debris, talking, and assisting those who'd managed to acquire (thankfully) minor injuries.

…..

The slayer-beast was gone. All that was needed now was the assist that the employer promised—and all would be ready.

…..

Winston looked at the disastrous results of his carefully laid plot with annoyance, "So much for recruiting professionals." He leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Oh well, let's see what the third wave can do." He nodded to his minion who spoke succinctly into a walkie-talkie, "Start the fireworks."

Behind Winston, out of his sight in one of the abandoned offices, a team watched with keen interest and prepared for their moment to come.

…..

Angel heard the squawk of an walkie-talkie coming from an up-to-now, ignored, small, dark blue van parked along the far wall. Jerking his head to Gunn and Faith to follow, they moved quickly to the back of the van whose few windows were smudged with grime. Angel yanked it open to find a well-dressed, youngish woman sitting in front of some electronic equipment, one hand resting on a small switch, and her other hand holding a walkie-talkie. Momentarily nonplussed by the unexpectedly harmless looking woman, the they didn't immediately attack. Jean Rydell, who had moved on from her days as a real estate agent, had embraced her new life as a vampiric minion of Winston. She'd enjoyed killing her previous boss and his all-so-perfect daughter…and she was going to enjoy killing these people too. Stupidly, she decided to monologue before doing it. She smiled her megawatt your-gonna-buy-a-house-today smile at the pair and said brightly, "Let me light the way to your new home!" and pushed the button.

Recognizing that she was a vampire and that she must represent some unknown danger, Angel and Faith started forward to stop her, but Gunn beat them to the punch saying, "Light this!" as he pressed the trigger. Flames consumed the interior of the van—and Jane Rydell—before she could realize she was now completely dead. Unfortunately, the switch she pushed had already triggered off the assist the entity needed by that time.

In the warehouse, the boxes, that had been unloaded from the truck and carefully scattered around the floor in such a seemly random way, blew their lids open simultaneously with an explosive display of pyrotechnics and an accompanying shock wave. The outwardly directed force of the blast and overwhelmingly brilliant lights stunned and blinded most of the humans in the room.

Then, if only the humans could have seen it, the sides of the boxes dropped away exposing six enormous, hideously deformed demons that unfolded themselves, grossly overshadowing the formerly relatively small, confining space of the boxes they had hidden in, and stretching out into their full length. The nine foot tall, slobbering monsters with giant fangs and even bigger dagger-like claws roared and growled at the landscape of helpless victims lying around them. Green drool dripped from the fangs as they shook their heads and the green liquid sizzled leaving corroded spots where it landed. Giving out a roar, one seized up a feebly moving, nearby teen and ripped off his head before the boy could do more than give out a cruelly cut-off scream. Tearing off other parts, the monster flung the bloody pieces around the room causing the barely sensible, sightless teenagers to scream and attempt to crawl away as they were showered with blood and body parts.

…..

On the upper level, two security guards were lifting a gurney with a carefully strapped-in victim up through the hole in the roof to the other two guards. The sound of the explosion rocked the room violently where Wesley and Fred were starting to load another victim, a teenage boy, onto another gurney. Wesley looked up in alarm at Fred at the blast as the pair struggled to maintain their balance with the precious bundle in their arms. Fred was unable to maintain her grasp and fell over, letting go of the legs as she tumbled. Barely hanging on under the arms of his charge, Wesley yelled, "Just drag that girl," he nodded to another victim, "out to the hallway. We'll carry them as they are up to the helicopter. Fred nodded and gently, but quickly, gripped an eleven or twelve year old girl by the collar and began to drag her to the door.

If Wesley but knew, the face of the boy he carried was remarkably like that of the now-dead Bobby Turlough, or 'Turf' as he was better known, whose desiccated body still lay undiscovered in the cab of the truck. The fake Turf opened his eyes with satisfaction to look up at his primary objective.

Toooo baaaad. The smaller one no longer made contact with it. Oh well, with the state of the confused minds below, there was plenty of juice to go around.

It sorted quickly through the minds of the targets below and was pleased to find another two slayer-masters below but dismayed that the slayer-beast was relatively untouched by the explosion. In addition, there was one human that had avoided the blast and one of the dead meat as well. One human wouldn't make much of a difference, it could take care of that trivial detail, and, of course, all the dead meat belonged to the employer so that wouldn't be a problem.

However, it would take too much power to beat down the protections of all three of the tainted meat bags. But it could vicariously enjoy the death sensations of the two below through other means. It delved deep into the unusual thought strands of the ultimately simplistic minds of two of the massive demons and easily directed their attentions on the targets of its choice.

Then it gathered its energies and prepared to move on to the more satisfying task at hand.

…..

Mary and Giles were thrown apart onto the ground by the force of the explosive pyrotechnics. Giles, eyes tearing from the blinding light still shooting flashes of light into his overwhelmed optic nerves, first heard the roars, the scream, and then the growls coming from somewhere higher. Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain in his head, he forced himself to stand, raised the uzi high to ensure he wouldn't hit any humans and auto fired in an arc in the direction of the growls he thought he could locate. Unable to see, he was nonetheless rewarded with squeals of pain from his intended victims.

Mary, although she couldn't see, could hear the screams, roars, and then (she guessed) Giles firing the uzi. Desperately, she rose unsteadily, stake in hand, and tried to figure out where and how to help Giles. Suddenly, a massive clawed hand swooped throwing her to the side and raking her ribs. Despite the surprise of the attack, she managed to roll with the blow and ended up kneeling a few feet away. She wasn't on her feet but at least she was right side up.

A huge clawed hand gripped Giles' hand and the gun the hand held and squeezed, cracking the pistol handle while digging claws deep into Giles' wrist, and causing Giles to cry out in pain. He was lifted into the air by his crushed hand as he blindly struck out at his attacker with his free hand. His blow struck harmlessly against the plate-like scales of the creature. Another giant set of claws gripped around his chest and relentlessly crushed the helpless man kicking futilely for leverage against the vice-like grip. Giles tried to grip of the claws around his chest with his free hand but couldn't get his fingers under the bony shackles. Unable to breath in the vice, Giles threw his head back in agony; his gasps of pain diminished by his lack of breath to express them.

Mary heard Giles' cry of pain and staggered towards the sound. But she was slammed from behind by a clawed hand. Still unsteady from the explosion, the force of this blow hurled her hard to the cement floor and for a few moments she could neither think nor move. The sound of enormous clawed feet moved towards her.

Giving up on breaking the grip breaking him, instead Giles grabbed the free end of the short boxy body of the uzi and pulled hard causing the trigger to depress against the painfully crushed finger still trapped in its confines. The resulting harsh rattle of gunfire caused a cooresponding squeal of pain from his attacker and the creature let go. Giles dropped to the floor, the gun clattering somewhere unknown, and Giles clutched his damaged hand as he curled into a fetal position while struggling to get enough air from his bruised chest. He too could hear the monster approaching.

To be continued…..

Author's Note: Whaddya know! This chapter is on-time and approximately 3,000 words long. Yippee! Next chapter will either be next Friday or the Friday after that. So basically 1 or 2 weeks.

Thanks to my reviewers for taking the time to tell me what you think! Thanks to Gopie! Glad you liked the chapter. Gotta fit in Wes/Fred where I can. Hope you like some of the humor in this chapter.It might be a strange fit in with all the drama, but it seemed to fit when I wrote it. Mary'll get explained later (there is a reason, honest). The entity is about to dohis job. Should be interesting. By the way, no drooling on my fic (slayer-master indeed;) Thanks to -J! More ickygrossthing to come. Two votes for Anne/Gunn, so I'll do my best to make it so. Thanks a lot! Thanks to MidnightzStorm! Love your fiction by the way. I've been readingyour stuff for a long time. That tiny little Wes/Fred was fun and worked well. Gunn-definitely good guy. He did quite a bit in this chapter actually. Anne/Gunn--check!


	29. Resistance is Futile

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Twenty-nine)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I made a mistake. OOPS! Instead of six demons that jumped out of the boxes, there were seven. Now you know._

Because they were furthest from the blast, Angel, Gunn, and Faith were thrown down but not seriously shaken from the shock of the explosion. In addition, the door of the van, although it slammed into Faith bruisingly-hard from the force of the blast, shielded the trio from the worst of the blinding lights. Although their eyes watered and spots wavered annoyingly in their vision, after a minute they were able to begin to scramble up awkwardly and see their foes.

The creatures' had a mottled purple exterior, almost like some sort of warped camouflage, thick necks, and squat heads. Their eyes looked dead, like sharks, the resemblance was increased as they opened their huge mouths, rows of jagged teeth crowded together so close that some stuck out in odd directions as they were crowded out. Worse yet, the teeth moved in excited rippling waves apparently in reaction to the multitude of potential victims.

Angel, Gunn, and Faith were too late to save the first teen murdered by one of the hideously large creatures. The other monsters roared with glee as they towered over the people made helpless by the ambush. However, two of the creatures stood frozen in place briefly and then, with a goal-driven determination, passed up numerous nearer victims to focus on and attack the two injured watchers.

Angel arose in time to see Giles grabbed high into the air. The champion looked frantically for some way to aid the watcher, but saw Giles succeed in breaking the beast's grip using the Uzi, and the watcher was dropped by the beast after firing the machine pistol. He'd always known the watcher was tough. He had to admire the chutzpa of the watcher, but, from the crumpled position the man had assumed, Angel guessed Giles had just run out of options. Dropping the plastic water gun as useless, Angel glanced around again for some weapon to use to tackle the giants. His eyes rested briefly on the van's back doors and he smiled as he wrestled one off its hinges, held it flat, took aim, and flung it like some large rectangular Frisbee.

The beast standing over Giles, its teeth glistening sickeningly with a greenish gleam as it opened its mouth widely, was caught completely unaware as the door guillotined it, and the headless body dropped down causing the dazed people near it to scrabble feebly as they instinctively moved to avoid the slightly burning sensations caused by the oddly colored blood flooding the area.

In the meantime, Faith charged for the beast attacking Mary. Yelling in rage, she leaped on the back of the monster, giving it something other than watchers to worry about. With one of her arms around its thick neck, she found the body plating impervious to her stake as she stabbed at the various locations she could reach. Catching glimpses of the floor below, she saw Mary and others lying helpless on the floor. She could only pray that no one was getting stomped in the fight. She could see two other demons moving in to assist the one she was attacking. Frustrated, she knew she didn't have long to figure out a way to kill these things. A van door flew close behind her, causing her to duck down involuntarily, and she saw the door decapitate one of the monsters coming her way. Looking to see where the door had come from, she saw Angel wave at her and then he looked around for another weapon. Her fist had slipped when she flinched and was now hooked into a soft, shallow hollow under the chin of the demon. The creature was clawing at its back trying to get at her but was too musclebound to succeed. An idea flashed into her brain suddenly and she pulled herself up by her fist and then jammed the stake into the soft area under the chin. Her hand burned from the blood running down it, but she gloried in her success when the creature dropped as if poleaxed. Rolling with the fall, she ended up on her feet next to Mary who was struggling to get up. The other demon that had been coming towards Faith suddenly changed direction as it wisely decided she was too dangerous a target. At Faith's feet, Mary struggled to get up.

Having run out of available van doors, Angel conveniently found a crowbar lying on the floor under the now burned-out van. Picking it up he charged up to one of the monsters, smashing its elbow. He didn't damage the demon, but it dropped the teen it was holding and obviously planning to rend. Roaring, it grabbed up Angel instead.

"You okay?" Faith asked with concern as she helped Mary up and observed the unfocused look in the other woman's eyes.

"Faith? Oh, thank God! That explosion…," Mary held her head for a second, "What's happening? I c-can hardly think. There's some kind of monster…" Mary clutched Faith's arm, "What's going on? Can you see Rupert? I think one was attacking him too."

"Jeez! You can't see, can you?" Faith exclaimed in surprise. She looked around the room, she realized that she could see numerous people shambling around blindly and the larger figures of the monsters in their midst grabbing up victims. Two of the demons were fully enveloped in flames as they waved their arms futilely trying to put the fires out. However, she couldn't see Giles.

Faith turned Mary roughly to face Gunn near the van and pushed her, "Go that way! That's where Gunn is. I gotta get back to the fight!" Then she left the woman and charged another of the giants. Seeing Angel in the grasp of one of the demons, she yelled, "Stab 'em under the chin, Angel!" and then leaped onto the back of another.

Another demon grabbed up a screaming teenage girl who was coherent enough to pound fruitlessly against the clawed hand around her waist. Gunn fired at the monster carefully avoiding the girl, but, like the other two creatures Gunn had successfully flambéed, the thing initially seemed oblivious to the flames licking its armor-plated skin. It raised the girl and inserted her head into its ravening maw, but, as if the nerves sending signals of the flame to its brain (assuming it had a brain) had finally, slowly, made the connection, the beast threw its head back instead of biting and roared in pain. Throwing the girl to the ground, it turned towards the source of the flame and charged. Gunn grimly lowered his head and continued to bath it in flame.

_It had waited. The suffering of the slayer-masters was too good a meal to miss. However, they were regrettably still alive, things were not going well, and it was time to fulfill its contract. Collecting the wealth of power inside saved for the purpose, it pushed hard pulsing out a huge force of psychic energy in all directions. This was not the precision targeting of before, but the sheer joy of pain sent to every possible receptacle (avoiding the demons' minds of course). Each wave would return, strengthened by the energy stolen from the meat and then batted back to strike again. A never-ending cycle of glorious foooood! Ahhhhhhh…._

The people stunned by the blinding explosion were effected most, their already stunned and confused brains viciously scrambled by this fresh attack to their minds. People across the warehouse floor, teens and security guards alike, gripped their heads frantically and screams of pain filled the large open area as their brains felt like they were burning from the inside out.

After the explosion and the attack, both watchers on the warehouse floor were unprepared for this new attack within. Each felt like they had run into a brick wall. Each struggled to get on top of the force that struck deep into their minds. Sadly, each failed.

Gunn's arm jerked up, his finger pressed on the trigger convulsively as he fell backwards shooting a stream of fire. The flames whipped around like a snake setting portions of the upper walkway alight. The creature he'd tried to kill batted frantically at the fire covering his arm. But Gunn couldn't see it. He looked inside rather than out. But he could still think. He exerted every fiber of his being to resist the attack on his mind.

_It didn't have a lot of energy to waste on targets peripheral to its goal, still, that human was turning out to be a much bigger problem than it originally thought. The fire stick was annoying. Time to take care of the trivial detail._

Gunn screamed as a spike drove deep into his mind. The weapon dropped from his nerveless fingers and he sank to the floor, aware of nothing but overpowering pain.

Faith could feel something niggling in her mind as if something pushed to get in. People around the room either screamed or collapsed unconscious, apparently in some kind of concerted attack on their minds. Could the demons be doing it? She couldn't be sure. Not having any better idea, she decided to take care of the immediate threat, ignored the distracters, and tried to stab the monster, who's back she was riding, under the chin. Unfortunately, this one flung itself around violently and she felt like she was on some amusement park ride as she clung desperately to its neck while her feet spinwheeled around freely. _Stupid thing! Faith thought, Stand still and die, you overgrown toad!_

Angel looked unnervingly close into the cold, beady eyes and the razor tooth-filled maw of the creature holding him high into the air. He couldn't seem to whack anything that made any kind of impression on the thing. He whacked inside the mouth hopefully and the creature clamped downed hard. Angel was dismayed to find it had bitten off half his ersatz weapon. Then, the monster chewed and swallowed, a sound like a jangle of change sliding down its throat. Angel gaped in disbelief as the monster seemed to grin and then drew the vampire towards its open wide mouth. Angel heard Faith's yell and gripped what was left of his crowbar in two tight fists. Waiting until he was so close that he could feel the grossly fetid breath of the deep throat and the outmost waving teeth pinpricking his side-turned face, he slammed the bar straight up under its chin. He was surprised at how easily the bar drove up and as the creature yanked its head back he got a flash of the bar in the open mouth as it pierced the roof of the creature's mouth from the inside. Then, it threw its head back hard roaring and dropped like a chopped-down tree, falling forward on the vampire that it still gripped tightly.

_Continuing the broader effect in the warehouse below, like simple background static, it moved on to the more difficult targets upstairs._

The security guards standing above and below the hole in the roof dropped to the floor writhing in agony. The gurney, and the now unconscious victim in it, was forgotten beside the two guards on the roof.

Wesley, still holding the 'boy' in his arms, looked in alarm as Fred covered her head with both arms and screamed. About to drop the boy and reach for Fred, Wesley felt enormous pressure inside his head and fell to his knees gasping, the boy still clutched in his grasp.

_Now for the real fun. Maintaining the energy through two of its minds to handle the broad attack, it gripped the hands of the watcher holding it, assuring direct contact, and slammed a more direct attack at the slayer-master above it, fighting to push through the thick, soft barrier blocking the strands of delicate morsels it so desired. But the barrier was too strong and it was strongly repulsed._

Wesley half-conscious of the connection made through the gripped 'hands' tried unsuccessfully to break their unnaturally strong grip. The pressure intensified to a near unbearable level, but he hung on, pushing back.

Fred could feel a presence in her mind. Initially, it smothered her in pain. Drawing something essential from deep inside her. But then, unaccountably, the feeling backed off some and she grew aware of her surroundings again. Looking through pain-filled eyes, she saw Wesley on his knees, his body jerking spasmodically in the grip of the 'boy' he had been carrying. His eyes were glazed and half-closed and he gasped, his breathing fast and shallow—insufficient.

_Irritated at the rebuff, it narrowed its focus into a scapel thrusting deep, hard, and fast. It went further than before and strained to force its way on through._

Fred saw Wesley jerk his head sideways, wincing as if he had a violent earache. A trickle of blood flowed slowly from his nose. He softly but firmly drawled out, "Noooo."

Fred weakly picked up her water gun and shakily aimed it at the 'boy,' pressing the trigger. A stream of water splashed on both Wesley and the 'boy.'

_The touch of the water startled it and it was thrown from the barrier during its brief distraction._

Wesley took a deep shuddering breath of relief as the pressure eased. He vaguely realized the 'boy' below him was something else. A translucent image of an abomination—a distorted caricature of the human form—flickered randomly with the false image of the boy. Clenching his teeth, Wesley tried again to drag away the hands.

_How dare the small one interfere. Angrily, it snapped a blow mentally at the impertinent meat. _

Fred grabbed her head at the bands of pain that impossibly squeezed her head—and screamed.

Wesley stopped his struggles as he heard Fred's cry. He tried to go to her, but the albatross of the hands weighed him down. His heart seemed to skip a beat at Fred's distress. Face tightening, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard, channeling his anger into raising the power buried deep within. Under his breath he began to chant strange syllables. The body beneath him began to glow.

_The slayer-master was trying to fight back. Feeling the mystical force spinning a web tighter and tighter around its form, it knew it was time to end the games. The employer wanted this meat intact. That, unfortunately, might not be possible. Hmmmm. Oh well. How sad. Humor was alien to its nature. But insofar as it could, the convoluted nature of its minds smiled within. The psychic equivalent of a chainsaw merrily sliced through the thick barrier shredding the protective folds and sank deep into the strands, shredding them too._

Wesley screamed; he arched back in anguish until his head touched the floor, arms strained from the hands stilled linked as if he held a live electrical cable and couldn't let go.

_Perhaps it had been contaminated by its centuries of contact with the meats—because, inside, it had to laugh._

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: I could have waited until next Friday, but I was ready and so I updated now. Next update either this coming Friday (a little unlikely, but possible) or the Friday after that. Enjoy!

To those people who too the time to review—Thanks! Thanks to MidnightzStorm! Yes, I enjoy all these commando dressed people running around with Super Soakers too. I'm glad you think the humor and drama mix okay. I was a little concerned about it. Always love the stuff you write in the Jossverse. Keep on writing! Thanks deadlymistress24! Are there really 24 of you? ;) Wet t-shirt was fun to write. Glad it was fun to read too. Sorry about the cliffhangers. I like them, what can I say? There will be some Wes/Fred next chapter. I find it hard to write combat, so it gets involved. Welcome Spuffyshipper--and thanks! However you enjoy the story works for me. I know it's a lot to plow through. Thanks to gopie! I was a little worried about the violence, but when I think of the beast's attack at Wolfram and Hart, I figure it's about the same (without the actual visual accompaniment). Honest, Faith was just in the line of fire. That's Wes' excuse and he's sticking to it!


	30. No Honor Among Thieves

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_It drank deep and sweetly in the mind of the slayer-master. Ahhhhh… It had to remind itself that it was supposed to leave the meat alive. Reluctantly, it backed off. Not detaching. No. The connection was too delicious to break—but then, it didn't need to._

Wesley took a deep, shuddering breath and eased down slowly until his back rested on the ground. His eyes were blank and showed no sign of comprehension or intelligence. Fred lay on her side, facing Wesley, but she was equally lost. Her eyes, half open, fluttered and looked without seeing. Except for the sound of harsh breathing, silence reigned in the room.

………..

Angel pushed unavailingly against the unmoving monster trapping him. Fortunately, he didn't need to breath or he'd probably have smothered to death by now. He could still dimly hear the sound of numerous people screaming and the singular sound of Faith's cry of rage. Damn, she really sounded like she needed help. Redoubling his effort, he was able to push his finger out from under the dead creature. Trying to gain a purchase, he pulled and pushed with every part of his body, barely able to move with each effort.

……….

Dropping from his hiding place in the ceiling, Dave, Winston's supposed second-in-command, was followed by Danvers, the former leader of Wolfram and Hart's security team, then traitor, and now a minion of Winston's, and finally by Jessie, another vampire minion.

………..

From the safety of the other warehouse, Winston grinned and leaned forward gleefully, "Let the good times roll."

……….

The three ignored the still panorama at their feet of watcher, physicist, and demon (faux-boy) and instead stretched their cramped muscles. Dave jerked his head in command motioning the minion out into the hallway. The minion moved quickly out of sight and, shortly after, could be heard the satisfying sound of two cracks from two now-dead security guards' necks.

…..

Okay, it was official. Faith was pissed! She twirled around like some kind of pom pom on the creature's neck as it rabidly flung her about. Mentally, she smirked at the idea of this pug-ugly in a cheerleader outfit. Finally, on one of its jerky changes of direction, she managed to get enough of a purchase on its back with her feet to push off hard and flip over its head and land facing away from it but directly in front of it. Immediately raising her stake overhead, she launched herself straight up shoving the stake and part of her fist up under the vulnerable chin of the surprised monster. She landed lightly back on the ground as it toppled over backwards, her hand still raised and tingling painfully from the blood covering it. Ignoring the minor pain, she looked back over her shoulder and said grinning, "Yea, team!"

……….

The minion reappeared in the doorway and nodded to Dave. Danvers smiled broadly at Dave and spoke in a chipper voice, "This is going well!"

……….

Winston smiled broadly too, in approval.

……….

Dave replied, "It sure is," and casually staked Danvers. The former security guard looked at Dave in shock and then dissolved into a spray of dust. Dave then looked into Winston's hidden camera and waved cheerily.

……….

Winston half rose and sputtered impotently in anger, "Why you…I…" Behind him, the door to one of the offices slowly opened and four of Dave's minions snuck out carefully.

……….

Angel had pulled himself partly out from under the beast, his torso still buried under its torso. He was struggling to drag the rest of himself out when Faith appeared suddenly beside him, bending down trying to lift the demon off of him.

Drawling sarcastically at the same time as she searched for a place to grip, "Ya' know Angel, at least I've got my priorities straight. I keep telling you guys that you ought to save this kind of stuff for after, like me." She was amused to see Angel redden. She hadn't realized vampires could blush. She lifted with all her might, her voice straining at the task while she warned, her eyes set on something beyond Angel's vision, "Hey, big guy, hate to tell ya,' but we got company coming."

……….

Dave held up a tranquilizer gun for his audience at the other end of the camera to see and mused theatrically, "I'm supposed to use this." Looking at it with pursed lips as if in contemplation, "Nope, guess not." He tossed it aside. "I think I prefer the old tried and true," and his face transformed into the ridges and fangs of his demon-self. Across the room, Jessie, grinning widely in anticipation, transformed too.

……….

Angel tried to see over the demon's body at what Faith was looking at, but he couldn't quite get high enough. Giving up, instead, he pushed with her and dragged himself out just in time for the last demon to stand over them. Its giant claws flexed angrily and green drool dripped down to sizzle in spots on their clothes.

Angel looked up in dismay, dodging a acidic drop that threatened to drop in his eyes. "Screw this," he muttered, swinging his arm up and triggering the stake shooter hidden by his silver overalls. The sleeve of the overalls split wide open and the stake that shot out of the attachment on his arm disappeared under the butter-like under part of the monster's chin. The monster fell over threatening to bury Angel again under one of the monsters.

……….

The minion moved to the nearly comatose Fred while Dave leaned over the similarly helpless Wesley.

……….

At the last moment, Faith yanked Angel, and herself, out of the way of the falling fiend. Rolling together to safety, Angel ended up on top of Faith and as they lay there for a moment, Angel trying to gather himself, Faith remarked smirking again, "Priorities, Angel, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Angel pushed himself off the slayer and rolled over to sit surveying the area worriedly.

Faith sat up beside him, her arms hanging loosely over her knees and scanned the warehouse quickly too. Seeing no new threats, but still hearing the pained cries of the victims around them, she exclaimed in frustration , "How do we help these people? What's going on?"

Angel shrugged, pushed himself up to his feet, and pulled her up along side him, "It's got to be coming from somewhere in this warehouse." He pushed on the earpiece, "Wes? Everything okay up there?" He paused listening for a moment, "Wes? Fred?" Getting no reply, he looked at Faith, his worry clear, "They may be suffering from the same thing up there. We've got to find out what's causing it. You check upstairs and I'll search down here."

Faith nodded once in understanding and started to move. Angel grabbed her arm tightly, "Faith?"

Faith could tell Angel wanted nothing more than to rush upstairs himself. Only his strong sense of responsibility held him back.

Faith reassured him, "I'm worried too, Angel. Soon as I know, you'll know."

Angel smiled, "Hurry it up, Faith."

……….

The woman was too small to be more than an exquisite appetizer. The vampire, Jessie, scooped her up and nuzzling her neck gently, smelled the sweetness of the blood rushing just under her skin while admiring her slight frame with the air of a connoisseur. Her fragrance was almost as sweet as a child's. Perfect! His soul questionable even before his death, children had always been his favorite prey—both before and after his death. His glorious new role as vampire had just allowed him to add to his repertoire. What had his boss said (the one he'd eaten first) was the key to success? Ah, yes—'continuous improvement.' He planned to have a long, happy career as a vampire continuously improving his special technique through the ages. But now, to the task at hand.

………...

Faith smiled in response to Angel. Then she said smartly, "Check, boss." Faith suited actions to words and leapt up to the first turn of the staircase leading up to the still smoldering walkway. She started to take the steps three and four at a time.

Angel tried to ignore the cries of suffering around him and concentrated on finding their source instead.

………..

_Shocked at the traitorous actions of the employer's minions (the thinking of dead meat had always been completely inexplicable), it let go of its grip on the slayer-master and skittered frantically away from the alarmingly dangerous new threat. In panic, it hastily retracted all the psychic tentacles snaked deeply in the reasoning of the warehouse occupants. The tendrils slithered and slunk back in reluctant retreat from their meal like eels slinking back to their dark holes awaiting their next opportunity._

………..

"Faith!" Angel yelled as people lying helplessly on the floor grew unexpectedly quiet. Faith paused in her upward climb, gripped the banister, and looked down worriedly.

……….

Dave was glad the small misshapen _thing_ had skedaddled. He shuddered just seeing it. Working hard to avoid seeing it again, he centered his attention on the man who was the image of his sire. Dragging Wesley up, he smiled, "Oh yeah, come to papa." He opened his mouth wide, extending his glistening fangs fully.

……….

People all over the room started raising themselves up. Some put a hand to their heads but most were looking around in confused relief. Angel was glad to see that they appeared to truly see what they were looking at. Faith smiled, "I'm gonna check upstairs."

……….

Wesley's thoughts swam in confusion through a swirling vortex of nauseous turmoil. He watched with disinterest as Dave's distorted face came closer and closer. When his head was shoved to one side, exposing his neck, he saw, without comprehension, a vampire cuddling Fred almost lovingly. Only her small whimper as the fangs slid into her neck broke through the pervasive bewilderment.

His face furrowed in concentration and he moved his arm, already lying flung towards Fred, lifting it up and twisted. Dave felt the body beneath him jerk as a stake shot out from Wesley's sleeve. His minion hugged the woman closer as if her presence could protect Jessie from the stake impaling his chest. Then she dropped to the floor in a scatter of dust that sparkled in the dim light of her abandoned flashlight. Dust motes floated around her body as she almost lazily turned her head in Wesley and Dave's direction.

……….

Unaware of the events overhead, Angel nodded at Faith as she departed, and then he continued to look for whatever had attacked once—and might attack again.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: Next update either next Friday or the Friday after that. Enjoy! I was planning to have some (a little) Wes/Fred stuff this chapter, but I didn't get as far as I planned.Hopefully next time.

Thanks for reviewing gopie! Feel free to laugh at anything funny (intentional or not). Mostly those bit were intentional. I actually like your description of the monster's reaction andlooksbetter than mine. Thanks for reviewing Spuffyshipper! I like readingany Wes fiction. If it's wellwritten, I'll read almost any ship (except Dawn as a child, something awful creepy about that). I read a lot of great Wes/Faith. Not as familiar with Wes/Willow. I'll have to look up your stuff.


	31. Breathe

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-one)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Giles was on his knees, hands pressed against the cement floor, as he blinked rapidly, shaking his head. Sparks blotted his vision intermittently, but he was pleased to see the effects diminishing rapidly. Someone touched his shoulder and he looked up startled, but relieved, to see Angel's worried face over him.

"You okay?" Angel asked.

Giles nodded as he stood with the vampire's help. He was relieved to see Mary across the room with Gunn. They were assisting each other to stand, too. Both looked extremely shaky, as Giles supposed he too looked, but they also appeared to be alright.

Giles leaned heavily against Angel's arm and looked around the room. Most of the people looked okay. He thanked God they'd come through it with so few casualties. They'd been lucky.

…..

The room tilted back and forth as if cresting wave after wave of some chaotic sea while Wesley concentrated on the only thing that seemed real to him—perhaps to some degree the only thing that had ever seemed real to him—Fred. She was blinking slowly and looking at him. Her face held an indescribable look on it and a tiny stream of blood ran slowly down her neck to drip occasionally to the floor beneath her. She ignored it and stretched a wavering hand toward him, pointing to something above him.

…..

Tominski moved unsteadily up and reported, "We have three dead, sir, and six injured, two seriously; but I think they'll all make it. I've called special ambulances. They should be here in five."

"Special ambulances?" Angel questioned frowning.

"Yes, sir. Wolfram and Hart maintains contracts with certain resources for use during special ops," Tominski was sweating as Angel's frown deepened. He'd ripped off his mask, allowing the earnestness of his face to show as he explained, "I know it sounds bad, sir, but really, do you want police and the like here."

Angel looked around at the chaos of demon bodies and milling people and nodded in grudging agreement.

Tominski continued with a gleam in his eye, "After all, it's not the arrangement, but the operation it supports that makes it potentially evil, right?"

Angel couldn't disagree, but also he couldn't help a sense of disquiet that perhaps he should be able to.

…..

Turning his head slowly to look, Wesley grew nauseous and the wave action was accompanied by a waffling spin—much like some crazy amusement park tilt-a-whirl ride. He tried to bring his arm up, but Dave clucked disapprovingly and grabbed the deadly appendage, speaking as if to a wayward child, "Now, now, is that any way to treat your future sire? Tsk, tsk." With a swift jerk, Dave snapped the shooting device strapped to Wesley's arm, and, incidentally, the arm too. His forearm broken midway, Wesley choked off his scream through gritted teeth. At first, His free hand made a fist in pain, but then he put all of his body's pain into the roundhouse punch that jerked Dave's head to the side. Dave's broken nose bled as the angry vampire grabbed the free wrist and jabbed his elbow hard into Wesley's damaged ribs. Wesley was unable to withhold the scream this time as he heaved in agony as what felt like daggers stabbing into his side. He struggled frantically to breath—unsuccessfully—each attempt digging the daggers in deeper.

Grinning at the watcher's futile thrashings, Dave's already-swelling face leered down at the barely conscious man.

Fred watched, her hands twitching in feeble frustration at her inability to help, her broken water gun lying in two pieces beside her. A puddle of water from the gun saturated her side, pinking slightly where tiny drops of her blood dripped into it. She reached to her ear and fumbled with the earpiece gasping out urgently, "Oh, G-God! Angel, h-help! Help Wesley!"

Dave grinned at Fred and then back to Wesley, "Time's up, Head Boy. I'm parched." Dave bit savagely into Wesley neck and drank deeply.

…..

Over the monitor, Winston watched in fury, smashing his fist uselessly against the table over and over, "No, no, no! He's mine! Mine! Mine!"

Dave's team approached Winston quietly from behind, their stakes ready.

The minion at the window, with the walkie-talkie and binoculars, saw the traitors. His eyes flickered back and forth between Winston and the traitors briefly and then he turned purposefully back to the window to watch outward, but listen with perked ears behind him. Although turned by Winston, he waited in breathless anticipation for the hostile take-over bid about to occur at the end of a stake.

…..

On the warehouse floor, Angel's head snapped up at Fred's cry for help. He pressed the earpiece and ran to the stairs. Gunn and Mary could hear the plea for help, but could only look on mutely, too unsteady to help. Giles wavered briefly at the loss of the vampire's support. He grimaced and tottered unsteadily towards the stairs. But, knowing he could do nothing useful in his current condition, he stopped in resignation and watched the vampire take stairs three at a time.

…..

Wesley felt the pain in his neck and, vaguely disoriented, wondered if Justine had cut his throat again. Then an icy cold swept up his body. He made a small noise in protest at the chill that enveloped him, dragging him down, down, down into a dark place beyond all pain, fear, and hope.

Dave pulled away slightly and looked at Fred, his grin smeared with blood and satisfaction. Peering down at the face he loved to hate, he gloated, "Your turn, Mouse. Drink up." Dave sliced his wrist and pressed it against Wesley's mouth.

Fred could see Wesley's head moving minutely from side to side, apparently trying to avoid the wrist. But the vampire's wrist followed the hapless movements. Then, Wesley's body grew still and Dave smashed his bleeding wrist against the silent mouth.

…..

Winston stood tensely, fisting his hands convulsively. He was completely oblivious to the minion raising a stake to strike him from behind.

…..

Faith's headset had been wonky from the beginning and now it had failed totally. Apparently playing ping pong with the giant demons had been too much for the delicate electronics. She was desperate to get back to Fred and Wes and see if they were okay. However, she was stuck on the walkway. The section of walkway ahead of her was in flames, followed by another section that had burned away entirely, to fall into ashen debris below, leaving only wire supports hanging loosely along its former path. Faith fumed at the forced delay. Finally, she climbed up one of the supports to a dangerously narrow rafter above and painstakingly tight-walked its uneven surface to its end. Unfortunately, this left her short of the point at which the walkway resumed. Irritated, she ignored the possibility of an uncontrolled descent to the hard cement floor below and jumped grabbing one of the loose thick wire supports. Luckily, the wires were warmish from their exposure to flame, but not painfully so. Then she swung, Tarzan-like, from support to support until she stood safely at the far side. Reaching the hallway, she found the two dead security guards, their necks bent at awkward angles, and the unconscious victim still strapped to the gurney. Hearing moans coming from the hole on the roof above, she leapt up to grip the sharp edges and, with just enough of her head exposed so she could see, she looked on the roof. Two guards sprawled near the edge, clutching their heads like they had the mother-of-all migraines but aware enough to hear her movements and react. One managed to gasp out, "W-what, unnnh…happened?"

Faith ignored them and the equally 'fine' helicopter pilot and dropped back to the hallway below.

The vampire pilot smiled behind his black ski mask as he continued to mimic the same symptoms of the other security guards. He'd love to eat the annoying guards, (Would they ever shut up their incessant moaning!) but his sire had told him to make sure they were alive unless they were a risk to the operation, and so, he would bide his time as ordered. He comforted himself with the thought that given the choice, they'd probably rather be eaten by him—and with that, he smiled again.

…..

Moving swiftly, but cautiously to the door, Faith looked in and then, at the sight before her, yelled and charged.

…..

Winston whooped and jabbed a fist in celebration, "Woo hoo, go slayer!"

Dave's minion, who was standing behind Winston, stood equally enthralled if less happy at the sight of his sire being attacked.

…..

Faith dove into Dave driving him backwards and away from the motionless watcher before the vampire could react. He grappled her as they rolled over several times before coming to an abrupt stop at the wall. Faith gripped his shirt front, ignoring the vampire's flailing fists as if they were of no more effect than a fly swatter. Slamming him hard against the wall, just to get his attention, she stuck her furious face close to his, "Bite my watcher! _Bite me_, you creep! His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but she had neither the time nor the patience to listen to the drivel and staked him. She was on her feet and moving to Wesley before the 'second-in-command' had even poofed into dust.

…..

Winston gripped the monitor in joy, "Betray me and die! Yeah!"

The minions behind him, suddenly leaderless, looked at each other uncertainly and then backed silently away. The minion at the window sighed and rolled his eyes in disbelief while still carefully keeping his back to his 'sire.' Maybe, just maybe, it was time to walk away.

…..

Fred, sobbing, pushed herself up on protesting arms and dragged herself over to her love, "W-W-Wesley?" She slumped onto his chest listening for a precious heartbeat.

Faith knelt by the prone figure lying motionless and enfolded by the weeping woman. His chest was unmoving. Blood stained his still lips and his eyes were closed. Fred curled closer clutching him tight as she lay her head against his chest, still crying softly.

Faith quickly checked his pulse and could hardly contain herself at the steady pulses against her fingertips. She touched Fred reassuringly, "He's alive, Fred."

Fred looked up at Faith, her eyes shining with tears and hope, but she refused to lift her head away from the precious, rapid beat she'd managed to find thumping against her ear.

Faith ripped a piece of her shirt, folded it, and pressed it carefully against the wound. Sensing Fred needed to feel she could help, Faith took Fred's hand and placed it firmly on the makeshift bandage, saying kindly, "Keep pressure on it, Fred."

Fred nodded, grateful for the task.

Angel arrived, after overcoming the same obstacle course Faith had traversed. He stopped at the tragic scene laid out before him, however, Faith's look of reassurance kept him from spiraling into grief. Moving close to Angel, she whispered too quietly for Fred's hearing, "He's alive, but his pulse is too fast. He's lost a lot of blood. He needs a hospital—now."

"Looks like they both need it," Angel commented. He began speaking into the earpiece. With relief, he found Tominski already had the ambulances loading the injured. After making sure transportation would be left for Wesley, Fred, and the people they'd been trying to help upstairs, he moved over to his friends. Faith followed him closely as he knelt by Fred; she watched as he touched the distraught woman tentatively on the shoulder, "Fred?" Angel started, stopped, and then started again, "Did he…did he drink?"

Fred didn't lift her head from the comforting sound of Wesley's heartbeat, but she made an attempt to control herself and speak, "I d-don't know."

Behind Angel, Faith shook her head and waved impatiently at a fly she dimly heard buzzing near her ear. Annoyed by the distraction, she returned her attention to Fred.

_Finally! It didn't think the dead meat was ever going to move out of its way! Every minute it stayed made it more likely the murderer she-devil would sense its presence. Relieved, it scuttled quickly down the hallway to the hole in the roof._

After checking that Fred's wound had stopped bleeding, Angel moved back to the door, touching Faith on the arm so she would follow. Angel said softly, "The blood on his lips isn't his."

Faith said firmly, "Then we'll just have to keep him alive."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Angel agreed. "Now we've got to figure out how to get them down from here."

…..

_Seeing the helpless victim on the gurney in the hallway and needing the fuel, it quickly snapped up the flicker of life remaining like a last slurp on a straw. It sensed a better meal above and looked up the great distance to the promise of safety and sustenance. Conjunction was costing too much. It dispersed its five minds and their accompanying amorphous forms to slide up the walls like five giant slugs leaving quintet of slimy trails behind. Slipping out of the hole, they overwhelmed the still groggy guards quickly sucking up the energy while muffling the agonized screams and leaving the desiccated corpses behind them. Amalgamating quickly, they once again formed into the grotesque caricature of the human form._

…..

Faith snapped her fingers, "I've got it, Angel! There's a helicopter on the roof." She grinned and stepped out of the room quickly. Angel looked at the couple on the floor, "We'll be right back, Fred," and followed Faith.

_It entered the awaiting helicopter and croaked out in its rarely used multi-layered voice, "Gooooo." Without a word, the vampire pilot took off and in a whirl of blades and artificially blowing winds, they were gone. The employer's plan had gone awry because of traitors in the fool's own ranks. Oh well, with luck the employer would never know what it'd done to the target. After all, what was that human phrase? Oh yes, "dead men tell no tales." And more to the point, neither do madmen. It settled in and wondered if it would get another chance to meet the slayer again. With a little preparation, it could be quite interesting._

To be continued…

Thanks to gopie for reviewing! Sounds like the story is getting to you—which is just what I want. Glad you liked that description. I really had to work to come up with them. I really appreciate your continued reviews. It makes writing easier and more fun. Thanks to Spuffyshipper for reviewing! Sorry it so long, got sick and then needed to do rewrites because continuity in this section is very important to the story. Sorry you can't put fics up yet. Hope that isn't stopping you from writing. Then you'll have lots for me to read when you can upload. Makes sense what you say about Wes/Willow. I kinda prefer Willow/Oz myself, but I try to be true to whatever was going on in the canon at the time that I write, hence the Willow/Kennedy in this story. Mostly, I try not to bash characters (except my own) cause I find it annoying when that happens in other people's stories.


	32. Connections

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-two)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

The slayer's eyes widened at the sight of the desiccated bodies on the roof, but immediately narrowed as she realized the helicopter was gone. Looking around, she saw it in the distance, whirling away rapidly. Dropping back down to face the vampire, she stated flatly, "Copter's gone. We're gonna have to look into what happened up there later."

Angel, who had seen the strange slimy tracks on the wall, replied shortly, "But not now." Looking down the hallway and remembering the convoluted path of the walkway, he called on his earpiece again, "Tominski, the helicopter's gone. How long would it take to get another one?"

The reply, although prompt, was not satisfactory, "Could be a while, sir. All the available ones were out of the city. That's why we had to wait so long for this one. Can't we call it back?"

Angel explained the situation briefly to Tominski. The security man lived up to the new management's expectations with his reply, "Okay, let me see what I can do. I'll get back to you in five."

Not one to wait, the vampire looked back up at the hole, considering, "Do you think we can get down from up there somehow?"

"Probably not. But I'll check," Faith leapt through the hole and disappeared. After a minute she came back, "No go. But I found something else." She held up two coils of rope the security team had brought for contingencies, "Waddya think?" She looked down at the gurney holding the corpse, and said sadly, "He's not gonna need it anymore."

Angel considered the risk, "Could be dangerous for them."

"Dying's riskier," Faith pointed out as she twirled the rope casually.

…..

Fred felt Wesley shift and heard a low moan reverberate against her ear. Lifting her head sharply, she ignored the momentary faintness the movement engendered and looked at the injured man intently, "Wesley? Can you hear me?"

"Unnhhh," was all he said, his eyes open but moving unfocused slowly around the room. She sat up, checking the bleeding on his neck which had stopped. Caressing his cool cheek, she spoke again, needing reassurance that he could hear her, "Wesley?"

_Wesley lay on the cold ground, his life pouring out, soaking the dirt, feeding the grass and trees. They'd be the only memorial he'd have. He mildly wondered if they'd turn red. No. That couldn't be right. He didn't have enough blood to change anything, to fix anything, to do anything right. Perhaps if he spilled more…but no, she'd takentakentaken…him…and everything was gone with him. Angel would never forgive. Inside, he laughed—like he could forgive himself. He jerked violently in protest, why was he still alive! No, no, no. That wasn't right. He needed to stop Winston from…he couldn't remember what. Maybe if he went to his room and took the toy soldiers that survived. Marching side by side in nice little formations, all dressed up and no one to kill. Their uniforms red. Her hair was red. Everything was red. All red. The world draped with redredred. She'd killed him. Maybe he could kill her back. Was she lying on the ground nearby?_

Wesley's eyes seemed to focus on Fred. He raised his undamaged arm to tentatively touch the blood that had dripped across her neck like some kind of grotesque necklace and spoke, his words slurred, "Who cut your throat? I'm supposed to….where did you take him? He's so tiny. So…so…innocent."

Fred shook the delusional man slightly, "Wesley? Oh, please, Wesley! It's Fred. Can't you hear me?"

_The red that seemed to color all his vision faded, washed away, leaving…Fred. _

"Fred?" He coughed suddenly, violently, his breathing grew more difficult as he tried to work through the spasm. Unable to catch his breath, his eyes watered and he choked as blood dribbled from his mouth, bubbles frothed there.

Fred, alarmed, moved around and lifted him gently to try to help him breath more easily. She urged him, "Please, Wesley, hang on. Try…try shallow breaths."

The new position seemed to ease his breathing a little and, heeding her advice, his coughing slowed, allowing him to breath intermittently in short, shallow puffs. He looked up at her, resting his head against her, his mouth working to frame words. She touched his mouth with her finger to quiet him, "Shhhh. Save your strength. Don't try to speak."

He kissed her finger lightly and then clutched her hand, managing to say hoarsely, "I love you…more…than life itself." He gripped her hand hard as the daggers stabbed into his side again and he grimaced in pain.

Fred was oblivious to the harsh grip, riding the pain with him. She pulled him close, whispering urgently, "Then live for me, Wesley, _please_, live for me.

He choked out, "I don't…know…that…I…ca…" He slumped against her; his head dropped to the side.

Fred frantically felt for a pulse, felt none, and then shoved her hand against his chest, relieved to find the beat—weak and fast, but there. She kept still, hand against his heart. She couldn't help the bizarre thought that her hand held some kind of magical connection to his heart—kept it going somehow. Strange as such thinking was, as his heart kept beating against her hand, she was comforted.

…..

Angel nodded reluctantly, but over his earpiece Tominski called, right on cue, "Sir, an emergency rescue helicopter will be on the roof in two minutes. Can you get everyone up there? I've got people climbing up to you, they'll be there in just a minute to help."

"Is everything okay down there? Do I need to come down?" Angel wanted to go on the helicopter to the hospital with his friends, but he didn't want to leave a mess behind.

Tominski reassured him, "We've got it handled, sir. All the injured, except yours, are on their way to the hospital. Mr. Giles and Miss Wyndam-Pryce have taken charge."

"What about Gunn?" Angel wondered if he was more hurt than he seemed.

"I think he's okay, sir. But he was very dazed so we sent him on with the other injured. One of the people we rescued, a woman named Anne, rode with him."

Angel thanked him and then started to work on getting his injured on the roof.

…..

They had relinquished control of the awake but still dazed victims from the upper offices to the Wolfram and Hart security team. They seemed to be recovering nicely and would await the second helicopter that Tominski had miraculously procured. It would arrive soon after this one.

Angel scanned the sky impatiently for the first helicopter. He'd had to zip up the silver suit again to cover his head from the deadly rays of the sun. Memories of a sunny few hours of peace in the flowered fields of Pylea rose unbidden in Angel's mind. The amusement on Wesley's face, the beer, the feeling of friendship repaired, regained, and restored were memories that Angel would cherish—however long, or short, his life was.

"_I don't think you believed me when I said as far as I was concerned we were good."_

Wesley's reply echoed in his head:

"_After I pulled you out of the ocean…well, I wasn't ready. We weren't good then, Angel. I think we are now."_

Angel forced himself to return to the present, glad to see the approach of the helicopter in the distance. Fred's look of deep worry broke his heart. At that moment, she started suddenly, and he heard Wesley's heart stutter and then stop. He moved forward instantly but stopped, unsure of what to do.

Fred laid Wesley back, checked his pulse at neck and wrist, listened at his chest for a moment, and then whimpered a second bringing her hand to her mouth.

Faith looking on, said quizzically, "What's goin' on?"

Gathering herself, Fred tilted Wesley's head and gave five puffs into his mouth; after that she moved to his side, positioning herself and beginning chest compressions. Under her breath she was muttering words, only some of which could be heard even with Angel's superior hearing, "Don't…up, not fair,…keep brea…., you hear me, Wesley! I just….you. Not….give up!" Fred moved back and forth, from chest to mouth, swaying a little in weakness, but forcing herself to keep moving, still muttering.

Faith moved forward hesitantly, "Fred?" She looked at Angel who looked helplessly on. Then her face hardened with resolve and she grabbed Angel's arm dragging him to Wesley's body. She spoke gently but firmly to Fred, "Fred, let us do it." Fred shook her head, her breathless speech telling of the exertion of the task, "Angel…can't…breath. He can't… do it. I…know…C…P…R."

"Fred, I've got it. I learned all that stuff in prison," Faith pulled Fred away, patting her shoulder and then smacked the vampire on the arm, ""Come on, Angel. You wash and I'll dry,"

Fred gasped while dragging in great whooping breaths and slumped against the roof barely holding herself up with shaking arms.

Angel held back, "I don't know what to do! I can't do artificial respiration."

"I've got it covered, Angel. I'll talk you through the CPR; I'll do the breathing." She smiled wanly as she knelt at Wesley's head, "Always wondered what it'd be like to French kiss watcher boy."

Working together, they quickly got into the rhythm, Fred watching breathlessly; unseen she snuck in to grip Wesley's lifeless hand.

Behind her, a helicopter approached.

The blade created a miniature whirlwind forcing everything loose on the roof to retreat in fluttering panic. Paramedics leapt out, equipment in hand, and quickly shoved aside Faith and Angel to take over the operation themselves. One of them tried to get Fred out of the way, but she hung on grimly and shook her head 'no.' Rather than waste any more time, the female paramedic incubated Wesley and started squeezing the air bag in conjunction with her partner. He stopped the CPR to prepare the paddles to attempt to shock Wesley's heart beating again. The female tech tried to drag Fred's hand away, "You'll have to let go so we can defibrillate him. Try to get his heart started," she explained impatiently. Fred let go and the paramedic called out, "Clear!" and shocked Wesley's motionless frame.

Faith looked at Angel helplessly. She patted Fred's shoulder awkwardly a few times and then stopped, feeling the gesture totally useless. The helicopter switched off it's engine and Angel smiled at Fred, "His heart is beating."

The paramedic with the paddles pressed them against Wesley's chest to get an EKG reading, then looked up in surprise to comment, "You're right. He's back. How'd you know?" Not waiting for an answer, they quickly and efficiently finished connecting equipment and moved the gurney towards the helicopter. Fred had grabbed Wesley's hand again. Wesley looked pitifully pale and still making the dried strands of blood on his throat look startlingly bright in contrast.

Moving with the gurney, Fred staggered a little while still clinging to Wesley's hand, so Angel supported her to the aircraft. He looked back at Faith who understood immediately as she answered his unasked question, "Go. I'll see you there."

Angel and Fred entered the helicopter and within seconds, it was gone.

Faith watched the helicopter, her face blank, but didn't leave until it flew out of sight; then she dropped down through the rabbit hole of the roof again to finish her job.

…..

In the more confined space of the helicopter, the paramedics grew more impatient with Fred's hand in the way and one of them shoved her back firmly out of their way. She clutched her empty hand convulsively over and over, her eyes never leaving the silent figure. The steady, too fast beat from the monitor immediately began to falter causing both medics to look at it in alarm. The male technician reached for the paddles again, but the female looked at Fred a second and then said, "Wait." The male medic paused briefly. The female paramedic took the crying woman's hand and placed it back in Wesley's hand. Fred sniffled, but willingly moved forward, whispering into Wesley's ear—and the beats on the monitor went back to a steady rhythm. Fred smiled tremulously at Angel, who smiled back. The paramedics looked at each other, shrugged, smiled slightly, and got on with tending their patient—working around Fred this time.

…..

The forensic, science lab, and demonology technicians were hard at work. The remaining security guards were there to help with the clean-up in the warehouse after the techies were through. All the injured people and civilians were long gone. A clean-up crew was going to do the real grunt work soon; however, security stayed behind just in case Winston and whatever minions he still had showed up. A row of nine body bags lay on the floor. Two guards stood nearby.

"Hey, Marv," one leaned tiredly against a truck that was going to take the dead away at some point when the techies and clean-up people were done, "Ya know, we've had more purges and deaths in the special ops corp with the so-called good guys than we ever had back in the evil days. Recruiting's gonna be a bitch!"

Marv, smoking a cigarette nonchalantly, nodded slowly, "Yeah. You know what they say, 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.'"

They looked at each other for a few seconds and then started snickering.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: Thanks to my three reviewers! Thank you JennMel! New reviewer! Yippee! Hope this helps feed the addiction. Thanks for the very kind words. Thanks gopie! Mmmm...Wes is alive...would have been kinda interesting...Yessss. Ah, the story progresses.Winston sounds like a brat. Yes, you're right. There's a point about that. You'll see. Thanks Spuffyshipper! Glad you liked it. Character bashing bad! Oh well, what canI say. It happens. I'm like you. I just move on. You guys are great! Thanks again.


	33. The Edge of Forever

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-three)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_For a long while, he had hung suspended above the turbulence in comparative safety, drifting, seemingly cocooned from the violence beneath him, but like the cutting of the strings of a puppet one by one, he had faltered and then fallen. _

_Forsaken. _

_Scrambling to rise, Wesley stood trembling at the edge of an abyss. Above him, the sky was filled with swirling, angry clouds spitting thunderbolts that seared across the landscape threatening to split the land asunder with frightening regularity. The gale force winds whipped at Wesley pushing and pulling him back and forth. The sound of them filled his ears with a roaring sound that increased with intensity and then receded over and over. Behind him, in the distance, on the rocky, barren terrain a small, dark, misshapen figure rapidly approached as it swiftly leapt and bounded from jagged boulder to jagged boulder. Wesley could only watch—and wait. _

Once they'd arrived at the hospital, impatient emergency room personnel had pushed Fred aside impatiently, over her protests, as they began working furiously over Wesley's unconscious body, pushing the gurney along as they worked. The doctor shouting orders for medication and plasma looked worriedly at the heart rate monitor's rapid beeping. His concern was valid as the monitor's tone shrilled into a solid, single, unbroken note. The emergency room personnel rolled Wesley into the back with a paramedic on top of the gurney giving him CPR again and some doctor shouting orders for even more medications. Fred was left on the outside, frightened, pale, and shaking, and not allowed to enter. She seemed bereft without Wesley's hand to hold. Angel gently guided her to a chair where she sat numbly squeezing and releasing her hand convulsively again. Moving back to the door that Wesley had disappeared through, Angel stayed there, his ear pressed against the wall as the medical people fought for Wesley's life. The monitor's ominously monotonous, singular tone the only constant.

_Unnaturally fast as the thing moved, the terrain stretched and grew in front of it inhibiting the hunchback thing's approach. The rain hammered at Wesley, more than soaking him, until he felt like his skin was wearing away from the abuse. Desperately trying to keep his eyes open against the punishing rain, Wesley could barely see the abyss below which glowed with a dim, unearthly light. Something dark rose from the center, starting slow and picking up speed, twirling faster and faster. It had an oblong shape, like a door—or a coffin._

After twenty minutes, Angel could hear one of the doctors reign in the other who had kept trying to jump start Wesley's heart, _**"Right, that's enough," there was the sound of the paddles being used again with a zap. "Look, that's enough! Let's call it. Time of death is…"** _

_The downpour drove Wesley to the ground painfully, clutching at the rough edge of the endless depths below. He could barely lift his head, but, straining to look back, he saw the creature was closer. A weird chortling sound grew louder the closer it got. Looking back down into the abyss, his head heavier every second, the oblong shape had resolved itself into a door. The strange, detached portal cracked open exposing a sliver of light which spilled leaving a trail of light circling up in ever widening arcs. Small as the light was, it hurt his eyes, stabbing deep into his brain with a chaotic imprint causing him to flinch and shudder in denial. _

_Lightening struck close by and the edge he clung to shattered, dropping him down; he snatched frantically at moving rocks desperately seeking a safe handhold as he fell. He was able to find a precarious hold momentarily. Above him, through the blinding rain, the figure appeared peering over the edge. Its weird contorted shape held little relationship to man, but the face on it was Wesley's own. It hooted in glee at his predicament waving its stick-like arms in triumph. A crack of thunder boomed close, deafening him, and the bolt struck near him blinding him with its strength. Closing his useless eyes as he slid down again hopelessly, he thought of Fred's grief and grabbed again, his fingertips finding and clinging to a jutting inch of stable rock. Swinging loosely, slamming periodically into the rock wall, he held fast, refusing to give in to his aching body's demands to surrender. Opening wide like some ravening maw, the piercing light from it whiting out the unreal vista around it, the door rose up to engulf him as the figure above gibbered and howled maniacally as it pranced precariously on the abyss' sharp-toothed edge far above. _

**_As the doctors gave up, Angel closed his eyes at the grief threatening to overwhelm him, when the straight tone turned into a beep, beep, beep, beep….and the team moved frantically back into action again working on the man who apparently would not give up—whether they did or not._**

Angel splayed his hand on the wall, wishing he could reach through, and then leaned his head against the wall in relief. After listening for several minutes to ensure that Wesley was fairly stable, Angel forced himself to move away so he could softly reassure the anxiously awaiting Fred and Mary—long before the doctor came out.

…..

Angel could smell Wesley's blood sprinkled on the doctor's white coat as the man spoke directly to Mary, "He's still alive. Frankly, it's a miracle. However, he needs to go into surgery immediately so we can reset his ribs and re-inflate his right lung. It was punctured by his broken ribs. I need you to sign permission for the surgery," his tone was urgent as he pushed a clipboard into Mary's hands. The man paused, then continued grimly, "I'm not going to lie to you. This surgery is extremely risky in his current condition. He may not make it." Mary, holding the clipboard with the form in her hands, hesitated in shock at the words. Impatient, the doctor continued curtly, "Look, I'm sorry, either we do this and maybe he dies, or we don't do this and he definitely dies."

Mary took a deep breath and signed. The doctor grabbed the board out of her hands and hurried away almost before she'd finished. Fred and Mary clutched at each other and moved to adjoining chairs to suffer through the hours of agonizing waiting ahead.

…..

The long hours took their toll on Fred who withdrew from the others completely. She sat shattered, totally oblivious to any comfort Angel offered. Finally, Angel gave up and checked with Tominski on Gunn and the other injured. There was good news on that front as Gunn and all the others were doing well. Gunn had rapidly improved after some minimal treatment. There was no sign of Winston and the experts were going over the warehouse for clues of what attacked them and where Winston might be. Satisfied there was nothing more to be done there for the moment without direct supervision of some kind, Angel called the medical unit at Wolfram and Hart and talked with Gunn. He was pleased to hear Faith in the background. She asked about Wesley, and Angel promptly let them know about Wesley's condition.

"Hey, I'm done here, Angel," Gunn's strong and clear voice was heartening, "I'm good. Want me to come there?"

"No," Angel looked around at the tired, dispirited group in the waiting room, "you'll just go nuts here, Gunn." He muttered under his breath, "I know I am." He immediately qualified that in a more quiet tone, "I mean, you can come if you want, but I've got something more useful for you to do if you want and it'll probably be hours before we know anything."

Gunn assented readily, "So what you want me to do?"

Angel had given some thought to the attack and he explained his concerns, "Have the science and demonology teams look over the upstairs carefully at the warehouse. Something attacked us all mentally, and I'm betting the source was up there. Faith can show you. You and Faith look things over and oversee what they find. We need to know more about it. If it got away, Winston will probably use it again."

Angel could hear as Gunn explained Angel's request to Faith. In the background, he could also hear Anne's angry voice, "I'm going too. They attacked my kids. I want to help try to make sure they regret that."

"Okay, Angel. We're on it," Gunn sounded eager to get back to work.

"Be careful. Gather as much information as possible. Unless I'm wrong, I'm guessing we'll need some watcher help to figure out what it was—and how to beat it."

Gunn's voice was cautioning, "It'll probably be a while before Wes'll be up to that, Angel."

The vampire eyed the two watchers sitting in the room as he agreed, "Yeah, but we don't happen to be short of watchers at the moment. Let's give them something to work on."

"Right, full-up recce and keep an eye on the evil techies, got it," Gunn replied.

Faith's voice came on the line suddenly, "You keep an eye on my watchers, okay, Angel?"

"Absolutely," Angel's voice was grim with promises of pain, learned through centuries of experience as Angelus, should any of Winston's lackeys, or even better, Winston, dare to show up.

…..

Later, in the warehouse, Gunn, Faith, and Anne looked in the cab of the truck, while Marv, the security guard, drawled, "We found him in here."

Faith crawled in for a closer look in the cab as Anne stood over the open body bag and said despondently, "It killed Turf, one of the kids from my shelter. I recognize his clothes.

Faith was touching the passenger side floor when she felt a tingle, similar, but weaker, to one she had felt in the upper room of the warehouse. Under her breath, she whispered, "You scuz! You were there all the time." Seeing nothing else of interest, she backed out and let the technicians in to finish their work.

…..

Some time later, Mary got up abruptly to make a courtesy call to her father about Wesley's condition, but this was, predictably, a disaster. Angel had no need to strain himself to hear the stupid man's reply. He could read the man's words in the daughter's white face. Staying true to form, the older watcher had probably denied any interest while being as insulting as possible to Wesley—and probably threw in a few 'What are you doing there's' and 'Your duty is with me's' at Mary.

Angel was about to march up, take the phone, and say a few choice words of his own—when Giles suddenly appeared out of nowhere, took the phone gently from her nerveless hand, and hung up on the audible abuse still spewing from the phone. He then tenderly lead her back to her chair, sat down next to her, his comforting arm around her as they awaited the results of the surgery.

…..

Wiping her hands as if they were contaminated on her pants, Faith grimaced in disgust, "It was upstairs with us. Damn! It was probably close enough to spit on."

Gunn asked, surprised at her certainty, "How do you know?"

"I-I just do." Faith grew impatient, "Just believe me. _I know._ It's like being in a room where someone was smoking. You can smell it. I can _smell_ this creep." She muttered under her breath, so that Gunn could just barely hear her, "Better not come in range again, I'll show it why smokin' is hazardous to your health!"

Gunn held out his hand, palm up, "Let me in on some o' that action, 'kay?"

Faith slapped his hand, turning it over for the return slap from him, in agreement, "If you're around, you're in!"

They grinned at each other before growing far grimmer at the row of body bags nearby.

As Faith passed them, she commented, "I really wanna stake me that Wimpy Winston."

"Oh, yeah," Gunn agreed.

Anne passed the bodies without a word, but her lips thinned in anger and if looks could kill, Winston would already be dead—violently—painfully—permanently.

…..

Mary's arms were wrapped around her body like some kind of shield against the vagaries of the world, "I wish we'd hear something. This waiting is terrible."

Giles nodded in understanding reaching his hand out to hold hers in comfort, "I know. We can only try to remain hopeful." He looked around the room at Fred who'd refused medical attention and seemed almost catatonic, huddled in a chair, a tiny figure refusing from all contact. Angel sagged against the doorway of the waiting room, his head down, weary with the long wait. None of them were in very good shape.

"Why exactly did your father say you weren't competent to be a watcher?" Giles stretched out in his chair wearily as he made conversation, hoping to distract Mary for a while. The dreariness of the hospital waiting room was starting to wear them all down, especially after the action of the warehouse.

Mary rubbed her arms and then gripped the seat of the chair, leaning forward, "Father doesn't believe women have any place in the council. That old rag about 'barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen' was probably coined by him."

Giles looked at her, his curiosity roused, "With that attitude against you, how did you manage to gain all those magnificent fighting skills, let alone get into the council?"

"Well, it wasn't easy. Pretty much, it's because of my mother. She arranged for me to take lessons with Chin Wu three times a week, ever since I was thirteen."

"Chin Wu?" Giles exclaimed in surprise, "He was the best martial arts trainer the council ever had. How did you ever keep it secret from your father?"

Mary smiled mirthlessly, "Father thought I was being tutored for school. He must have thought I was exceptionally stupid considering how long the 'tutoring' went on." Mary paused, then continued more huskily, "My mother was abused by father, we all were, but especially her. He terrorized us mentally for the most part. With her, he was much more physical. I think she was determined that I wouldn't suffer the same fate as her. She wanted me to be able to defend myself."

Giles laughed softly, "I would say she was spectacularly successful."

Mary smiled weakly in appreciation for the comment, "Anyway, Chin Wu was always heavily involved in the 'wet works' side of the house. He liked me. After my father retired, Chin Wu slipped me into the black ops program. Father thought I was a part-time researcher and translator for the council—occupations marginally acceptable for a woman in his opinion. I was sent all over the world on special ops and he thought I was doing translations for covert watcher functions." Her voice grew softer, "That's where I was when the council blew up."

Giles looked at her consideringly, "You know, the council could use you again." She looked at him curiously and he waved his hand dismissively, "Not this poncy version your father has created, but the real council. May I explain?"

She nodded with interest and Giles leaned forward eagerly speaking with the intensity of someone who knows his life's work—and wishes to share it.

…..

"You know, Gunn, I really appreciate you and everybody coming to save us," Anne's face shone up at Gunn as they walked the makeshift walkway the Wolfram and Hart team had cobbled together for access to the upper areas.

Gunn reached out his hand, "Here, let me help you." He helped her over a particularly rough patch that Faith leaped over gracefully. Faith looked back at the two and snickered. Gunn frowned at Faith and, in a surprising show of tact, she turned and moved on rather than irritate him further.

Turning back to Anne, he admitted, "I hate to say this, but we might be responsible for your involvement." At her startled look, he explained about their problems with Winston. "Look, you know I'm always glad to help you and the kids. It's my 'hood, too. But I can't help feeling we almost got you all killed here."

Anne stopped the man who knew close up and personal just how difficult it was living on the streets and still fought, stake in hand, to defend the friendless that lived there, "You have nothing to feel guilty about, Gunn. We both know that these kids are victimized by all the bottom feeders in this town—vampire or not. At least you and the gang try to do something about it."

Gunn smiled wanly, "Thanks. I just don't wanna get people killed, you know. It's not what I'm about, what we're about."

Anne hugged him tight and he sighed as some of the tension he'd felt, since this all started, dissipated.

Off in the darkness, Faith's disembodied voice echoed across the large open space, "Get a room, you two. Ever since I got here in L.A.," her voice took on a sing-song quality, "I've been hearing about negotiatin' and people throwing themselves down stairs and all sorts of public displays of affection supposedly for love." She said plaintively, "I thought you were supposed to be the normal people. Haven't you ever heard of a date. Jeez! I feel like I'm back in prison watching 'The Love Boat.'"

Anne and Gunn both flushed a little with embarrassment and Gunn protested, "We're not doing anything! I mean, uh, we've been pretty busy. I don't know why you…Hey! What do you mean, 'throwing themselves down stairs?' Who said that?"

Off in the dark, the only answer Gunn got was Faith's chuckle.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: Hoody hoo! I got six reviews! Thank you, you very nice people!

Thanks gopie! I like how you see some of the things I've done on purpose and mention them. You pick up really well on the little things that seem out of place. All I can say is that most of them are there for reasons that will hopefully become clear (or clearer) in time. I don't want to say any more—but good job! I snickered at the guards too. Glad someone else did as well. Thanks Spuffyshipper! Yes, Wes and Fred are having a rough time. Awwww. But it does make great angst! Thanks for reviewing JennMel! All I can say is hang in there. Thanks Rainbow's End! New reviewer! Yippee! Glad you've hung in there from the beginning and really glad you took the time to let me know how much you like it. I'm trying to update weekly (which is about the fastest I can do), but I've been averaging about every two weeks, I think. However, my word count seems to have picked up to around three thousand words per chapter, which is an improvement. Hopefully, I can keep it up. I have to admit, I was inspired by the number of reviews I got this time and so I got it out in a week this time—so thanks—and enjoy! Thanks –J! Glad you like the heartbeat and Faith (I'm not sure she worked as well in this chapter, oh well). Also glad you liked the snickering bit. I like to put in tiny bits like that just to give the story some depth and humor (I got the idea from David Weber, who does it very, very well; infinitely better than me). I LOVE how you describe the entity (Ickycreepygrossthing)! Can I use it in my story? That fight was endlesssss… I was sick of it long before it ended. I think it got a little out of hand (another "oh well," I guess). I blame it partly of the exhaustion of graduating. However, working through problems like that is a great learning experience for a writer—and I try to take it as such. Glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks goldenshadows! Very nice of you to let me know you're still enjoying it!


	34. Waiting

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-four)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

"Isn't it taking too long? I think it's taking too long," Fred finally started babbling after the too long wait. "I mean, I thought they'd be out an hour ago. I know he was exsanguinated and the broken bones and all, but…" She got up and looked down the hall towards the door to surgery, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously.

The two men looked at each other, neither sure what to say when Mary got up and hugged the frazzled woman, "Fred, however long it takes, if he's still in there, he's still alive."

Fred nodded and then abruptly broke down crying. Mary held her close to comfort her when Fred suddenly sagged in her arms. "Angel!" Mary cried out in surprise as she tried to prevent Fred from falling to the ground. Angel and Giles leapt up and moved Fred quickly to a chair. Angel patted her hand calling her name while Giles offered to get a nurse.

Fred eyes fluttered open and she forced herself to straighten up in the chair and reassure them, "No! No, I'm okay." Her words, so normal sounding, were followed by others that were not quiteas reassuring,"It's true, I got bitten, but he saved my life, Wesley, I mean. I tried to save his life, but he saved mine instead. Loved more than life itself, but I want him to live for me, not die!" She started crying softly again still mumbling under her breath.

Angel looked at her closely, "Fred, you lost a lot of blood. Maybe we should get you checked out."

At Fred's thankfully more coherent protestations, Angel said firmly, "You want to be in condition to be there when Wesley wakes up." Jokingly weakly, he added, "If you make yourself sick, he'll make himself get up just to stake me."

She smiled feebly back and nodded, "Okay, but I'm not getting admitted. M-Maybe if I got some juice or something."

Angel went to talk to the nurse while Giles got some food and drink. Mary sat keeping one eye on Fred and the other down the hall towards the surgery door—Fred watched only the door.

…..

Faith, Gunn, and Anne looked over the slimy trails leading to the roof and the place on the roof where they seemed to merge and disappear. The clean-up crew had taken pictures of the scene before removing the bodies and the technicians were taking samples of everything that seemed a potential clue. Faith moved to the edge of the roof looking off in the distance, her eyes narrowed in thought, "It went on that first copter, that way." She pointed in the specified direction, then turned suddenly back to Gunn, "What's off that way?"

Gunn looked off in the direction she had pointed and then yelled down the hole for a map.

…..

Winston stood by the balcony that overlooked his little army of worker bees. Behind him Emil, his acquisition specialist and sole living human associate, waited a little uneasily for the vampire to speak. Winston abruptly turned, "Find out what hospital they took him to and see if he's still alive. If he is, find out his condition. If he isn't…," Winston emphasized his next words, "find out where they put him."

Emil grimaced, "Don't you have some lackey you can send? I do have other functions, you know." He adjusted his jacket and brushed his sleeve dismissively.

Winston gripped Emil's shoulder in what should have been a friendly gesture—but somehow wasn't, "My 'lackeys' don't do well in sunshine. Anyway," he tightened his grip uncomfortably (for Emil), "I wasn't entirely satisfied with _your_ employee's performance. Consider this an opportunity to restore some faith in your abilities."

Emil kept his tone reasonable, but refused to cow to the obvious pressure, "My employee wasn't the problem. _Your_ man caused the plan to fail. _My _employee did the best it could under the circumstances." It was hard to keep eye contact under Winston's glare, but Emil managed to do it.

After a moment, Winston grudgingly conceded, "Yes, I suppose that's true to some degree. However, if anything is to be salvaged from this disastrous operation, it will require someone to go to the hospital now rather than later. Before the mouse's friends can do something awkward and irretrievable, like beheading him." His look, directed at Emil, spoke volumes about his potential reaction to that event.

Emil eyed Winston a little longer and then lowered his head and nodded his agreement reluctantly.

Winston squeezed Emil's shoulder again, more gently this time, and smiled, and Emil smiled back, but neither of them was really happy.

…..

The doctor and nurse who Angel had found took inordinate care of Fred, checking her thoroughly, giving her some medication, and offering her a bed to rest in for a while—which she refused. However, the nurse stayed regardless of Fred's protests and the doctor left a number to call "for anything, anything at all, sir."

Giles watched the doctor leave and then looked at Angel, his eyebrows raised at the extraordinary service.

Angel looked embarrassed, but explained, "Ummm, apparently, Wolfram and Hart are a large donator to the hospital and have an entire ward here. Essentially, he works for me."

Giles frowned but moved on to another topic, moving close first to speak discreetly, "What if Wesley dies? Do you think the vampire tried to turn him?"

Angel hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets before he turned away. He replied shortly, "If that happens, I'll take care of it."

Giles looked as if he wanted to say something more but thought better of it. Instead, he turned and sat next to Mary. After looking out the window for a while, he was coaxed by Mary into eating some of the food he'd procured for them.

Angel continued his solitary brooding, the familiar cloak almost a comforting companion as he dealt with the ghosts of the past and the ghosts of what might be.

He had to be prepared in case of the worst happening—in case Wesley's heart stopped again and, this time, failed to start.

He owed it to Wesley.

On the brighter side, Fred already looked better. The food and medicine had perked her up and she looked ready for the long haul again. The obeisant nurse sat patiently near her.

…..

Gunn, Anne, Faith, and Tominski stood in the abandoned warehouse from which Winston had observed them. Faith whacked a monitor hard enough to make it rock on the table and said in exasperation, "I guess we're just around to provide this creep with entertainment." She turned angrily to Gunn, "We're never gonna have it out with this guy as long as he considers us a spectator sport!"

Gunn nodded absently in agreement and moved in to look closer at the electronic equipment. He pushed a button and a computer disk softly ejected. He picked it up looking at it.

"You think they recorded us?" Faith offered.

"Yeah, I think they did," Gunn said thoughtfully. He looked at the row of similar machines and starting ejecting the rest of the of the DVDs.

"Ya' think they'll help us somehow?" Faith sounded confused, "We were there, you know."

"Maybe, just maybe, it recorded that thing that attacked us," Gunn suggested.

Faith nodded, her face clearing in understanding. She looked around for something to put the disks in and almost immediately found a small box of empty plastics cases.

Gunn turned towards the security team chief, "You have the techs go through the rest of this place with a fine tooth comb…and find that helicopter."

"Right, sir," Tominski scurried off to do his boss' bidding.

Anne took Gunn's arm and suggested, "Maybe we should go to the hospital. We could tell Angel what we've learned and find out about Wesley."

Gunn nodded and they moved off, Faith carrying the box of DVDs.

…..

The surgeon entered the room still wearing his blue surgical costume. He was patently tired but obviously elated as he spoke, "It went well, very well. Much better than we could have hoped for. His condition actually improved during the operation and we were able to slow down and deal with the end of one of his ribs that had splintered. There were quite a few bits to locate and remove. Fortunately, the splinters caused very little internal damage other than his right lung. Nothing that wasn't relatively simple to fix anyway. There were problems, but, all in all, it went very well."

The audience around him smiled, but he continued more soberly, "I'm sorry, I don't want to give you the impression that he's out of the woods. The surgery went stunningly well, but we'll have to wait until he wakes up to…see how he is. He suffered profound blood loss and, well, his heart stopped for a considerable time. We have to be concerned about what effect the low oxygen levels may have had on him. In fact, his oxygen levels continue to be a concern. His right lung isn't working up to capacity yet." The waiting room was quiet as the group absorbed this information.

"You mean he may have brain damage, don't you," Fred's voice was low and very controlled.

The doctor hesitated for a moment and then admitted, "Yes, it's a possibility," he added, "but he may be just fine. We just won't know until he wakes up."

Giles laid a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder as she sat, stunned. Angel stood by the door looking lost.

"But you think he'll live?" Fred asked urgently.

"I think so, yes, but he's still on shaky ground," the doctor was as decisive as a politician.

Finally, Fred stood, thanked the doctor quietly, and added, "Can I see him, please?"

The doctor shook his head regretfully, "He'll be in recovery for a while. We want to monitor his oxygen levels for a little while before we move him. Also, we're taking some x-rays and setting his arm. Umm," he consulted the medical chart he was carrying, "it was broken, but we couldn't do anything about it during the crisis. Shouldn't take too long," he said briskly, looking up. "Anyway, after he's moved to a room in intensive care, only immediate family can see him. That would be," he consulted his chart again, "his sister?" He looked up expectantly.

The group looked ready to protest, but the forgotten nurse stepped in, her face perfectly calm, "Doctor, as soon as Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is out of recovery, he'll be moved to Ward 13."

The doctor looked taken aback and eyed at the group strangely, "I w-wasn't aware…I mean, I… Of course, I'll arrange it r-right away."

The nurse smiled, efficiency oozed in her voice, "That won't be necessary, doctor. Everything is already arranged. In fact," she looked at Angel expectantly, "if you don't mind, sir, I'll go supervise the transfer. You might want to give us a half an hour or so to get him settled in before you come up. Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will be in Room 1 in the ward on the sixth floor as soon as he's able to be moved. You shouldn't have any trouble finding it. Just ask any of the staff," she smiled again, a hint of something…odd touched it briefly, "everyone knows where Ward 13 is."

Angel looked around the room: at the group, briefly at the now clearly unnerved doctor, and back at the waiting nurse; then he nodded his consent and she marched away leaving an almost visible wake behind her.

The doctor nodded his head almost submissively, certainly anxiously, and left, almost at a run, clearly desperate to leave.

The group was left to stare at each other and then everyone settled on staring at Angel who shifted uncomfortably under the spotlight.

Behind them came a voice, "Hey, what's up? How's Wes?" Everyone looked at Gunn who stood in the doorway with Anne and Faith.

Fred ran up and hugged Gunn, "Oh, Charles! He's alive!" Much more would be said, but for now, that was enough and Charles Gunn held closely the woman he'd once loved and still cared about deeply—and who badly needed a broad, sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

…..

The figure lay quietly on the hospital gurney. Monitors beeped with a regular monotonous beat while the figure slept on. Medical personnel moved a portable x-ray machine into position.

…..

Gunn and Faith had explained the results of their investigations, with Anne adding in comments occasionally. Angel started to ask a question when Giles, who had been listening quietly, jumped up suddenly and interrupted with a, "Wait! I….," and then stopped clearly deep in thought. Apparently trying to remember something, Giles held his hand up as he paced back and forth vigorously in the small room. Snapping his fingers, he started to speak, "I believe…," he stopped again for a moment obviously thinking it over and then continued, "I believe I know what it was that attacked us. Oddly enough, I wrote a masters thesis about the creatures once. The only thing is," he paused a little uncertainly, "they don't exist anymore."

……

The regular surgical staff of the hospital stepped back and allowed the members of Ward 13 to take over. The new people were efficient and rapidly organized the various medical paraphernalia necessary to move the patient to his new room. A certain amount of nervousness was visible in the faces of the regular staff—and those who could leave, did.

…..

Giles looked at his watch, "I think we have some time to waste before Wesley is all set upstairs and perhaps," he looked around cautiously, "it would be better to hold this conversation outside of the purview of," he spoke with barely concealed distaste, "Ward 13."

The group sat back prepared to listen while Giles settled into his most comfortable lecture mode, "We never knew what they called themselves. The council called them the Morlock." Giles eyes brightened as he warmed to his topic, "Interestingly enough, H.G. Wells used the name for the degenerate humans in his story "The Time Machine." In my paper, I theorized that he'd heard of the creatures from a watcher who was a friend of…," Giles stopped at the blank looks around him.

He coughed, cleared his throat, and started again, "Yes, well…ummm…t-they came from another dimension around 1 AD. There is some evidence that they may have had a hand in the fall of Rome and the beginning of the dark ages. One theory was that something c-catastrophic happened in the place they came from—the council was never sure exactly what. There were never very many of them here; apparently they were too powerful and territorial to share. They are naturally solitary, finding their gestalt mind sufficient for companionship, and they reproduce infrequently in groups of three. Their low birth rate was their great weakness, along with their insatiable appetite. If you knew what to look for, it was relatively simple to track them down by following their trail of devastation. And, of course, that's exactly what the council did."

…..

The gurney was carefully wheeled upstairs to the sixth floor and in through an unusually solid and secure door held open by a security guard. Flowers in hand, Emil watched the transfer with carefully hidden interest while appearing to chat casually with an aide at nurse's station outside the infamous ward. He'd hit gold, first try. Wolfram and Hart always did like to use internal resources before using outside contractors. He had learned that from his previous dealings with the organization. He liked predictability in an opponent. It made it easier to defeat them.

…..

Gunn interjected, "Well, I'm guessing this council didn't do as well as they thought if this thing is what attacked us. Do you know anything else about them? Like how we're gonna kill them?" He rubbed his head, "I don't know 'bout you, but I felt like something was squeezing my brain like a sponge. I don't have any brain cells I wanna give up to the cause," he added ruefully. Anne patted his arm comfortingly and he grinned at her.

Giles sat down on the corner of a coffee table before answering carefully, "The council was able to ascertain some facts about them. These creatures were some kind of symbiotic group mind that fed on the strong thoughts and emotions of humans. Frankly, they thought of us as no more than food. However, it was generally believed that the council hunted them out of existence nearly 1,500 years ago. The council succeeded because it was nearly impossible for the creatures to attack the slayer directly, possibly because of her supernatural nature and protections, and it was, at least, somewhat difficult to attack watchers. Apparently, watchers and slayer have a shared mystical connection allowing the watchers to gain some of the protections that the slayers have naturally against such creatures. It's not like any of these protections are unbreachable, they just represent a more difficult challenge than the average person's resistance and these things had never been resisted before."

"Hey, Giles, we're connected!" Faith smirking nudged Giles and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

He frowned at her like a parent to a rude child, shifted in his place on the table, and then patently ignored her as he continued, "_Anyway_, these creatures were a huge threat to humanity and, for a period, the council focused almost all its attention to their extinction—it was thought successfully until now. This last creature will probably be difficult to find. It could not have existed through the centuries unless it was very discreet and more intelligent than the others. But I imagine it still has the same weaknesses the others had, to a lesser degree. I would think Faith could deal with it quite handily, if she knows what to look for."

Faith smiled darkly, "I think I got a hint at the warehouse. I guess we'll have to wait and see." Giles looked at her inquiringly, but let it go for the moment.

Angel spoke for the first time, "Giles, if you can explain what we should be looking for I can have Wes resear…" he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying. Fred looked away, her face hidden. Faith's eyes burned brightly, darkly. Angel continued, a little angry at himself, "The _research department_ might be able to find the trail if you can tell them what to look for out there."

Giles got up and said smoothly, "Of course. Perhaps we should head upstairs now." He smiled gently at Mary and Fred, who both looked up eagerly. The group stood and began to move out of the room. Giles held back, letting people move out ahead of him. He silently touched Angel's arm, and Angel understood and waited with him. Once the room was clear, Giles said quietly, "I'm glad we didn't have to face the worst about Wesley."

Angel's face darkened, "Is that all you had to say? Cause I'm not talking about it."

Giles continued intently, "If we can track this creature down, I think we—_you, me, and Faith—_should finish this. I have great hopes that wherever it is, Winston is." Giles paused looking at the door the others had exited, "I think Wesley, and the rest have been through enough, don't you?"

Angel looked at Giles momentarily, looked at the door, then back at the watcher again, "Sounds like a plan to me."

The watcher nodded in satisfaction and both men left together. For once, in perfect accord.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: I start graduate school in September. I will probably be very busy at that point and updates might become erratic. I will try to get as much done by then as possible. I am coming up on the final stretch, so we'll see how it goes. I'm really unsure of whether I can finish it by then or not. I'll do my best. In any case, thanks for hanging in there.

I got five reviews! Thank you! Dork dancing by author expressing glee! Thanks to gopie! Glad you liked the dream? sequence of Wesley's. I was trying for something creepy and otherworldly—and yet with some meaning, however hidden. I haven't gotten much into Fred's thoughts yet (good point), but I will. I'm trying to imply what she's feeling through behavior and dialogue at the moment, but you're right, I'll have to go farther soon. Clown phobia? You're in good company. Xander had clown phobia too. :) Wes was a klutz—martial arts would only have made him look amazingly funny. Thanks Rainbow's end! Glad you liked the abyss. I particularly like that part too. Giles is cool! Roger is bad! Sorry you had to wait to see the rest of Angel. I agree; Wesley seems to regress in the presence of ol' Rog. I do it too when I'm with my Mom. Odd, isn't it. I guess it's hard to get past such long learned behavior. I'll try to keep updating every week. Can't promise, but I'll try. I have to say, the reviews really help. Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Yes, poor Wes. Your idea sounds like a good plot for a fanfic. Please write it! I'll read it! Thanks to trecia and braven! New reviewers! Yippee! Trecia-So glad you decided to review. I know it's been a long haul. Glad to know you enjoyed it enough to stick with it. Braven-Very kind words! I'll try to keep the updates coming. Glad you liked the Wes/Fred connection. I like to think they could have done it in canon, if they'd actually stuck with them as a couple more than a week. Take care.


	35. The Painful Way of Anchors

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-four)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

"Sir, I'm Selene Holbright, the director of Ward 13." Her immaculate dress suit was very expensive, yet tasteful. She smiled the smile presented by used car salesmen everywhere, and certain lawyers in Los Angeles.

Angel stuck out his hand and shook hers awkwardly. She said smoothly, "I want to assure you that Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will receive the very best of care. It goes without saying that our entire medical staff is at your disposal," she waved him, and the others, in through the security door and past the nurses' station at which several medical staff nodded and smiled.

Taking him a short distance to a room that was viewable through an entire wall and door of glass, heavy shades that might block their view were pulled aside for the moment. Medical personnel worked to adjust a variety of expensive-looking equipment, made notations on medications and charts, and generally made themselves look vitally busy. Like the calm eye of a hurricane, all this activity surrounded a very still, pale figure who looked much smaller than normal in a bed from which tubes sprouted everywhere.

Fred pressed her open hand against the glass, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Mary, blinking rapidly against tears of her own, pulled the smaller woman close bringing a comforting arm around her shoulders. Fred made a small noise, but her eyes remained glued forward.

Holbright spoke with sympathy to Angel as if she really cared, "When I found out that he was in the hospital, I immediately arranged for him to be brought up here as soon as possible. I was sure, considering the circumstances, that you would want him in this more secure facility. We have controlled access, security guards, and, most importantly, a state of the art ICU ready to deal with a variety of medical issues, whether normal or supernatural in nature."

A doctor from within the room detached himself from supervising activities to join them and Ms. Holbright introduced him, "Mr. Angel, this is Dr. Atherton, one of the best intensive care specialists in the country." She looked at her watch and then apologized, "I'm sorry, but _I_ have a meeting I _have_ to take. However, I'll leave you in the doctor's capable hands." Flashing another smile, she walked briskly down the hallway.

Angel opened his mouth to speak, but Fred beat him to it, "When can we go in?"

The doctor smiled; his smile, Angel noted, seemed rather more genuine than the director's, "How about," he looked back into the room where most of the medical people were now finished and starting to leave, "now."

Fred pushed past people coming out of the room, ran over to the bed, and immediately took up Wesley's limp hand. Mary moved up to the other side but hesitated to take the hand as it and the arm were encased in a cast. Instead, she brushed an imaginary hair off his temple and briefly cupped the side of his face, softly saying, "Oh, Wessy." Fred looked up at her and smiled tearfully.

Angel watched from the end of the bed, and listened thankfully to the steady beat of Wesley's heart, echoed by the beep of the monitor.

Dr. Atherton took the chart from the nurse and, after looking it over and making some final notations, he began, "Right. The surgery went well. Much better than expected. However, the right lung had collapsed and, although it's reinflated and working, it's still not up to capacity." The doctor looked up sharply to see if they understood as he expounded, "That means his O2, his oxygen levels, are too low to support him. That's why we have him incubated." Everyone looked for a moment at the two tubes taped to Wesley's mouth. "Unfortunately, it's pretty common for people to fight the tubes, so we've sedated him temporarily, placed him in an artificial coma, just until his oxygen levels return to normal." The doctor frowned at the chart in front of him, "I'm afraid we won't know anything more until then. However," the doctor smiled reassuringly, "considering the condition he was when he arrived at the hospital, he's doing very well. So, are there any questions for the moment?"

The doctor looked around the crowded room and seeing no immediate questions, he suggested, "It would probably be better for both him and the staff, if you limited visitors to no more than two or three at a time. He needs rest to recuperate and we need room to work. Also, his recovery is likely to take some time. You might find it easier to take shifts. However," he reassured them quickly, "there's no immediate rush. Take ten or fifteen minutes to convince yourself that he's doing alright." The doctor left and the group moved to the bed to gain a little of the reassurance the doctor mentioned.

Gunn took a long look at Wesley, with an even more concerned perusal of the oblivious Fred, and then spoke quietly to Angel, "I've got some home movies to watch. I'll let you know if I find anything out from them."

Angel nodded, looking at Giles pointedly, "We've got some things to do too." Giles whispered something to Mary and moved to stand near Angel.

Mary sighed, "I've got to go, too." At Fred's look of concern, Mary reassured her, "I'll be back. I just have some things to hash out with father." Mary brushed Wesley's hair gently again.

Giles concern made his voice more urgent than he intended, "Is that wise? Perhaps you should wait until later when I can come with you."

Mary smiled and moved closer, "I don't need a babysitter, Rupert. Anyway, I don't plan to get into anything major at the moment. I'm just going to set a few ground rules. That sort of ego blow is better applied alone. In any case, I can't imagine any conversation with my father being improved by Ripper's presence," she smiled rather impishly.

Giles glowered, "It depends on how much actual conversation you plan on having."

Mary touched his cheek and his face reddened, growing a little shy, as she said soothingly, "The days when my father could win an argument like that are long over." She smiled knowingly, "He just doesn't know it." Giving Giles a final pat on the cheek, she left after a final admonishment to Fred to take care of herself and a reiteration of her plan to return as soon as possible.

After Mary's departure, Angel looked questioningly at the slayer who had stayed uncharacteristically in the background up to now, "Faith?"

Faith's look was knowing, "Course I'm staying, ya big goof. Somebody's gotta stay and watch Sleeping Beauty, beside Freddie, I mean."

At her words, Fred looked up briefly and smiled gratefully at the fiercely loyal slayer before returning to her vigil.

Angel nodded in relieved agreement and then everyone left, leaving Faith to settle in across from Fred. Faith pretended to read a magazine, but her real attention centered on the man laying so still on the bed and the woman tightly holding his hand and whispering into his ear—and, more importantly, on any potential threat to either of them.

…..

Gunn and Anne looked at the monitor carefully, pausing the image occasionally, backing it up occasionally. They worked well together. Each discovered things the other missed. They were determined that each moment recorded for posterity by Winston would, hopefully, used against him instead.

…..

Giles bent over the shoulder of a man who typed parameters into the computer to set limits for the extensive search. Around them, scattered throughout the large room, researchers scanned carefully through various ancient tomes looking for information on the entity.

…..

Angel picked up the scrawny demon and slammed him hard against the wall again, not losing his grip in the process, "Wanna tell me again that you don't know anything about a vampire named Winston?" Angel pushed his face close, "Better fess up now. I'm just gonna get angrier…and then I get creative."

The demon sputtered and then began to speak rapidly. It didn't know much, but it thought it could find out more if it tried. Angel was pleased to note that the creature had better control over its bodily functions than the security personnel Angel had dealt with in the past. So pleased, in fact, that Angel let it go, after an appropriate number of threats, a small amount of cash, and assurances of future information getting passed on soon by the weaselly demon to Angel—for appropriate remuneration, that is.

Angel was normally pretty cheap…but this time he would pay, and pay well, if it could save one of his team.

…..

_It wanted him to let go. It scratched and tore at his fingers trying to loose them from the shattered remains to which they clung. The bright light stabbed into his eyes leaving him guessing exactly what he was hanging from, only that it was crumbling, unstable. In the background, unendingly, he could hear the gibbering alternating between laughter and sobs with manic speed. _

_He was tired. He longed to fall into the darkness and utter silence he sensed lying beyond his strength to reach. Perhaps dropping into the sterile brightness would be a relief. But he could not. _

_She anchored him. _

_The anchor was strong but painful, holding him limpet-like on the fragmented edge of sanity. Her voice like strands of a web wove lightly around him; each strand of infinitesimal strength individually but collectively able to reach divine proportions. He tried to listen, but it took too much effort to hear her words. Instead, he had to derive comfort from the familiar tones, unable to locate their source. And still, in the background, the frenzied howls went on and on._

Fred laid her head down on the pillow near his and whispered words of encouragement. It was difficult to get near, what with all the tubes and equipment, but she felt better the closer she could get. Her fingers itched to grasp a marker and begin making sense of the insensible; the blank walls and glass around her a challenge in some way. But instead, she pushed all that vaguely crazed nervous energy through her hand trying to somehow mentally send it all to him, to sustain him somehow. Although he was perfectly still, she imagined that she somehow felt a tension through his fingers. She couldn't understand it. The fingers didn't move; he didn't move. But, as crazy as the thought was, she hung on to him praying that she would transmit some of her strength so that he would hang on too. Hoping that, like writing on the wall, it would bring some order to their tiny piece of the universe.

…..

"Okay, we found out several things from watching the recordings," Gunn referred to a sheaf of papers in front of him. "The good news is that Danvers is dead, I mean, deader than a vampire is usually." Angel, Gunn, and Giles had gathered in the conference room. Faith, wearing a headset looked on from a monitor hooked up at the hospital. Behind her, out of focus, they could see the driving purpose of their meeting, Wesley and Fred. Those sitting in the conference room ignored the coffee and donuts that Harmony provided to concentrate on the information they had to share.

"He was a vampire?" Angel said in surprise. "I knew he was working for Winston. I didn't realize he'd been turned. I wonder if he turned the other missing security guards, too?"

"Actually, he did," Gunn replied smugly. He was rather proud of the fact that, for once, he was the fount of knowledge. He flicked on the conference room monitor using the remote. A video appeared of Mary impressively beating up the vampiric security guard.

Faith commented softly, "Okaaay! She's like Bruce Lee, Jet Li…some kinda Lee all rolled up in one. Is she really related to Wes? I mean, he's really good in a fight these days, but jeez!" Angel and Gunn had to agree. Giles just smiled.

When Mary pulled off the vampire's mask, Gunn zoomed the picture in on its face, explaining its significance, "This is Trevor Hastings, one of the missing security guards." Gunn sat on the edge of the table, "I did a count of the vampires that snuck into our operation and I think we toasted all but one of the missing security guards; however, there's no way to know which one is left, except for scratchin' old Hastings there." He clicked and pictures of the other original missing security guards came up. Everyone took a careful look.

Gunn looked around, "Anyway, if these guys are gone, what happened to the ones they replaced." Gunn pushed another button to flash five employee pictures of uniformed men with identifying information, "These guys failed to report in after the operation. So I'm thinking, we should expect to see these guys later with fangs. I've already told security to be on the watch for them." Angel nodded in approval at Gunn. Faith's face grew big on the screen as she obviously looked closely at each face, then put her thumb up and sat back again. Pleased, Gunn continued, "Incidentally, we IDed the guys on the overhead walkway. They were members of a missing Los Angeles SWAT team."

"So it's fair to say that Winston is trying to recruit more combat oriented people," Giles commented dryly.

Gunn nodded. "More importantly, if you watch this," Gunn clicked the video again to show a vampire staking Danvers and then obviously taunting the camera, "I'm guessin' this means Winston isn't as tight with his crew as he thinks. I had a lip reader give me a reading of the conversation and," Gunn passed around copies, "I think you'll agree, this vampire was definitely dissin' Winston. This guy was supposed to trank Wesley," he pointed to the tranquilizer gun in Dave's hands, "and, instead, he decided to bite him."

Angel grimly watched the attack on Wes and Fred play out. Giles grimaced, but leaned closer to get a better look. Faith looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and rip out someone's heart.

Gunn stopped the heartbreaking images; everyone looked away bleakly. "I got one more thing out of the videos." He pressed another button and two digitally enhanced scenes in slow motion showed one after the other. First, when Fred shot the entity with the water gun as it attacked Wesley, and, second, as it skittered away in panic after the vampire staked Danvers. Gunn paused and zoomed in on the exposed entity shown to the group in its real form. It had a small, strange malformed body that was vaguely humanoid, but whose joints moved unnaturally. Hunched over, it's oversized, lopsided head distended uncomfortably from its skinny neck. Its greenish skin looked mottled and diseased. It seemed similar to some kind of warped toad, or perhaps…

"It's Gollum!" Faith exclaimed, and she was right, the creature was similar. But it was a more deformed, less anatomically correct form of the fictional monster from J.R.R. Tolkien's amazing trilogy _The Lord of the Rings_. There was a sense of incongruent parts that reluctantly worked together, but only as independent pieces. It was like a small child creating a clay model of the creature had pushed in and pushed out when she should have done the opposite, assuming a child would continue to create such a monstrous apparition and not smash it flat to start again from scratch after such horrific results.

Giles got up, fascinated to get his first glimpse of something he had thought of as extinct as the dinosaurs. Turning to Gunn, he asked eagerly, "Could you give me some hard copy pictures of this and a copy of the video."

Gunn reached into his stack of papers and pulled out a packet, "Already got it." He handed it over with a flourish, trying to act all cool and nonchalant, but his pleasure shone through.

"Excellent work! How did you know I'd want it?" Giles asked as he opened the packet to skim through its contents with satisfaction.

Gunn's answer brought a sobering reminder to everyone, "Cause Wes would have." The two men looked at each other unhappily.

Everyone's eyes automatically looked at the unfocused figure behind Faith. She was looking over her shoulder and when she looked back, Faith was scowling. She hissed angrily, "So, how does this help us find Winston so we can pummel him to death."

Giles immediately spoke up, his words clipped and professional, "Yes, I might be able to help with that." Putting down the packet, he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels to explain, "Using the research department, we were able to isolate a series of gruesome deaths in South America that fit the pattern of the, um, _Morlock_." He restrained himself from referring to it as the famous fantasy figure Faith had suggested. "The deaths greatly simplified the consolidation of power of a gun-running cartel there through the elimination of rivals, terrorization of opposition, and other similar activities. This group has a representative in Los Angeles. A man called Emil that," Giles said with loathing, "apparently Wolfram and Hart have a working relationship on a sub-contractor basis." Angel shifted uncomfortably in his chair but said nothing. Giles continued dourly, having made his point, "In point of fact, Wesley said at one point that he was going to warn this Emil-character off from working with his father and the other watchers." Giles wry smile was humorless, "Apparently, he should have told Emil to stay out of this affair entirely because Emil must have decided to work with Winston instead. I believe if we can locate this Emil, he can tell us where the Morlock is located, and probably Winston, too."

Angel sat up and leaned forward, "I think I can make that happen. I've got some feelers out already. I'm pretty sure if I let them know I'm looking for Emil, I'll get some action." Angel leaned back, threat implied in his posture, "I think I can make my displeasure clear to Emil."

Giles picked up the packet, his stoic face giving nothing away, "I'm quite sure you can. You'll let me know when you have something?" At Angel's nod, Giles departed coldly.

Gunn commented, "I don't think he likes you very much."

Angel sighed, looked at the deformed entity on the screen again, and got up, "I don't think there was ever much chance of him liking me." Angel started to walk out when he turned to Gunn, "That was great work, Gunn." Gunn grinned, but his grin faltered on Angel's words as the vampire left the room, "Wes couldn't have it done better."

Gunn's mouth tightened with frustration; he was truly tired of trying to live up to the 'Wes' standard.

_To be continued…_

Author's note: I'm real sorry it took an additional day. I had written out of chronological order and had to go back and put parts in-between. Unfortunately, that slows the writing process. I know it sounds strange, but sometimes I'm inspired by different parts of the story and I try to write something if it feels like it's flowing. I'm really trying to get this out every week.

Six Reviews! Thanks, folks! You guys are so cool! Thanks to Spuffyshipper! I'm not sure if he was an alcoholic, but he certainly seemed to lean to hard on the alcohol. Can definitely imagine Fred yelling! I'm a Wes/Fred fan, too. Wish they could have had more. Thanks –J! Actually, I think both terms work for reconnaissance. I think I've heard them in movies (_the_ definitive source). It's pronounced "rec e." Always glad to hear you're being funny in front of a computer. Thanks for the "strengths" comment. Good point about Faith. I think she was smoking too (with Spike after she went to Sunnydale with Willow). Oops! As far as your wonderful phrase, I was originally thinking of Fred saying it, but I think the moment has passed. However, I appreciate your permission to use it if I get the chance (Harmony would be excellent). Still love the phrase. Glad you liked the Mary and Giles stuff. Don't want her to become a marysue, but I want her to come across as a survivor, like Wes. THANKS TO –J FOR A SECOND REVIEW! You nice person. Thanks for understanding about school. I'm irritated that I'll probably have to slow down once school starts; however, I will definitely finish this. It really is just a matter of time. Glad you liked the Morlock. We shall be dorks together. I really enjoyed that bit. It took a while for me to decide what name the entity should have. Don't know what I'll do about Emil; but you're probably right—continuity is dead. I try to stick with canon, but I refuse to allow continuity with canon to interfere with my plot. Giles not being a jerk and saving Fred! Yippee! Amy Acker was chilling as Illyria. She would have been great as Fred/Illyria. And more Wes/Fred! Hoody Hoo! Thanks Rainbow's End! I hope it's okay that I had to take another day. I really appreciate your reviews. Thanks for the continuity praise. I work hard to keep things in continuity with each other. W&H is so fun to write. All those incredible resources and constant nudges that corruption always lies just out of sight (or sometimes in sight). Very like Dorian Gray. Thanks to gopie! Thanks for the understanding about updates. DVD's explained in this chappie. No birthday pics. Sorry. Yeah, the doctor was a little uneven. I tried to rework him a couple of times. Oh, well. I blame it on bad bedside manner. W&H nurses probably eat their young. Yes, Angel does take all the flack. Poor boy. As far as Ward 13, do you remember what Angel said when he found out there was a clinic in W&H in my story? "He supposed Wolfram and Hart had to dissect people somewhere…" Yes, they really need the secure door. Emil only hung around the outside of a W&H hospital facility to see if they would show up (Winston knew Wesley was hurt) and they did. He didn't get in. I worried that I wasn't making that clear. Emil isn't perfectly harmless (Morlock) and Winston is a ponce (jerk). My thinking was that Winston needs Emil, at least for the moment. I've got a better question than asking what would happen if Winston got Wes (but I'm not telling). Glad you like the little interplays. Thanks for the good words about the chapter titles. Gotta ask—what's up with the bunny? Thanks your local dealer! New reviewer! Thank you! I'll do my best with Wes/Fred; however, I'm kinda limited by the plot at the moment. I'll put it in whenever I can. As far as Faith/somebody, I can't add another romance. Thanks for asking. I do appreciate knowing what people want/like. I'm sorry, but I already followed canon and showed Faith with the principal from Sunnydale as an item. Anyway, the plot is just too complicated as it is and is starting to run down paths I've been setting up for a long time. I am sorry. I know how it is to have a character you really like.


	36. Watchers

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-six)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

"Honey, you just keep talking to him," the nurse spoke cheerily to Fred as she adjusted an IV drip.

Fred looked up at the nurse's words, barely managing a bemused "Huh?" The night was passing in dreary monotony, only the monitor breaking the silence with its blessed regular beeping.

The nurse finished and looked at Wesley briefly and said to Fred, "Whatever you're saying, sweetie, it's helping. His oxygen levels have been steadily improving since you started talking. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to talk to the doctor about removing the tubes." The nurse beamed at Fred, who beamed back.

As the nurse moved away, Faith teased gently, "You sayin' sweet nothings in his ear?"

Fred said with some spirit, "Of course." Both women smiled and Fred adjusted Wesley's blanket watching each change of the numbers on the monitor that came with each rise and fall of his chest. By now, she knew which numbers needed to go up and which needed to go down—and which were just right.

Faith carefully kept her eyes on the magazine she wasn't reading as she commented, "Ya know, I'm thinkin' if he's getting better because of you talking, he must be in there," she looked up and tapped her head with her finger meaningfully, "you know what I mean?"

Fred looked at Faith hopefully, "Do you really think so?"

"Speakin' from experience," Faith shoved her chair back so it balanced precariously on its two back legs, "—and believe me, I've got a lot of the whole unconscious-slash-coma thing under my belt—in my opinion, if he weren't there, he wouldn't care, and if he didn't care, he wouldn't be getting' better." Faith rocked her chair back and forth as if testing the limits of the chair's defiance of gravity.

Fred, her eyes wide, looked at Faith and then at Wesley. The physicist couldn't stop herself from asking, "I was wonderin'…what happened between you and Wesley, Faith. Charles mentioned there was some kind of history between you, but he wasn't sure exactly what kind." She spoke hesitantly, "Were you two…an, uh, item?"

Faith laughed harshly; then she spoke and her stark words shocked Fred, "I tortured him, Fred. Beating, knives, fire, the whole five torture groups were on the agenda." Faith kept her eyes down, fascinated by her hands for some reason as she dropped the useless magazine and admitted, "I got to three of them before Angel stopped me." Despite Fred's horrified gasp, Faith plowed on as if this was an ordeal she must endure (one of many necessary for redemption), raising her eyes to face Fred's wrath directly, "I tortured him and the next day, he helped Angel save me when he could have just turned me over to some council goons that came to take me out," she looked at Fred with asperity, "permanent-like. Ya know what I mean?"

Fred knew what she meant, "How can he…"

Fred didn't know how to ask, but Faith understood, "How can he work with me? How can he get beaten one day and help me the next?" Faith dropped the chair down softly, so as not to disturb her watcher. She said with a sort of wonder to her voice, "Because he's a good man. A real watcher—not like one o' them voyeuristic bookworms—but a real watcher. Because he can forgive. Not then, because nobody can just let that ride unless they're stupid—and he's not stupid." Faith gripped the handrail tightly, trying to contain her emotions so she could get her meaning out, "But like Angel, he can believe in possibilities, in something that might not be there today, but might be there tomorrow. So he saved me then and, later, when he wanted to save Angel, he got me and worked with me. And now," Fred thought she saw a hint of moisture in the other woman's eyes that added a glittering intensity to her words, "he can forgive."

Faith let go of the handrail and looked at Wesley, speaking fiercely, "The world is better for having people like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce in it. We can't afford to lose him." Faith looked away and so did Fred, giving the slayer a moment to compose herself. Faith leaned back again with studied nonchalance, finishing almost carelessly, "So you keep talkin', cause I learned to believe in possibilities, too. And I believe he's hearing you."

Faith started rocking again and pretending to read. Fred watched her for a moment in a combination of awe and astonishment. Then, Fred gripped Wesley's hand and spoke softly again—speaking of endless possibilities.

…..

_She pressed her face between the rails at the top of the stairs—unnoticed as usual. Something was wrong. Mummy had gone in and out of the nursery endlessly. Then came the visits from the doctor; the grim whisperings before his rapid steps into the nursery followed by more urgent whisperings after his exits. Then came the sure-fire sign that something was wrong; Father came back early. Father **never** came back early. She listened from her invisible spot on the stairs as the doctor talked, using mostly words she couldn't understand, try as she might. All she could do was take note of them to try to look them up later in the dictionary as father expected her to do. That aside, however, she **could **understand the whiteness of her mother's face and the even grimmer than usual set of her father's jaw. She knew something was wrong with one of the twins and it was confirmed when the doctor finally said, "I'm sorry. He may never walk." She knew what _that_ meant. She had to cover her mouth with both hands to stop herself from gasping aloud. The doctor then continued with something that was probably meant to be soothing, "It is for the best that you've separated them. Wouldn't want both of the little nippers placed at risk."_

_At the words, her father tensed, his hands fisted, and he turned away abruptly._

_The doctor had pulled out a journal and said gently, "I know this is very distressing; however, I need his name. For the record, you know," he prompted softly._

_Just as abruptly as he had turned away, her father turned back, and spoke harshly, "His name is Wesley…Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." Mary felt a momentary exultation, it was the other one. Not **the heir**. She almost immediately felt guilty for feeling that way. It wasn't Wesley's fault that he was the other one. Her father mostly referred to the boys as the twins. But when he referred to them by name, it was invariably Winston and **the other one**. She knew what being the other meant. It meant not being noticed, unless it was for something bad. It meant never doing things right. After all, she was another other too. Her mother gave a small sob and stepped up to her father, trying to speak. But he shook his head and patted his wife on the shoulder awkwardly, saying, "Better go to bed. The nurse has things in hand for now. You'll need your strength tomorrow." Her mother stood for a moment, uncertainly, and then, at a look from father, she slowly walked up the stairs to their bedroom. Mary scrambled to hide in one of the alcoves set at regular intervals along the long hallway, scooting back to hide in the shadows created by the dim lighting. After her mother had closed the door, Mary crouched down, moving gingerly up the rail again to peer down at the two men. _

_As her father showed the doctor to the front door, Mary resolved that Wesley and her would be 'others' together. She was much older. After all, she was seven and knew how the world worked. He wouldn't face things alone like she had. He had her._

"I'm glad to hear that Wesley's doing better," Giles stirred his coffee as slowly as he spoke. They were having a quiet meal in her hotel dining room before she went back upstairs and he went back to work.

Mary smiled as the waitress finished pouring her coffee and moved away. "Yes, perhaps he'll be off of the oxygen by the time I get there. Although, I don't think I'll be able to go until morning."

"How did your conversation go with your father?" Giles asked mildly, but his eyes brightened with interest.

"Oh, about as well as any similar conversation could go with my father," Mary paused for a moment thinking, "or perhaps any conversation at all—with him." She tilted her head and smiled wearily, "There was much gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair (his) and other grotesque male chauvinist pig rituals. However, no ritual sacrifice of maidens was required, so all is well. I'm far more concerned that he not go to the hospital. That's the last thing Fred and Wes need right now. It's taking a lot more manipulating than I expected to keep him away, though. Fortunately, the solicitor is hitting some major snags back home, so that's helping." She twirled a lock of her blonde hair absently and picked up her cup of coffee. After a sip, she asked, "So, how's it going on the Winston front. Any clue yet where he's hiding?"

Giles cleared his throat and turned his cup round and round in its saucer, "No, not really. We have a few leads but nothing concrete as yet." He looked up at her and then back down at his cup, "What are your immediate plans? Have you been exiled or are you still staying at the hotel with your father? Do you need other accommodation?"

Mary smiled, mischievously this time, "Is that a roundabout way of asking me to move in with you?"

Giles looked horrorstruck, "No! Of c-course not! I-I simply thought I'd l-lend a hand if you needed it. I never m-meant to imply…"

Mary pushed at his shoulder playfully, "Calm down, I have no illicit designs on you, Rupert." Giles avoided the need to speak by taking a calming sip of coffee but choked at her next words as she peered thoughtfully at him, "Not yet, anyway."

Mary patted his back considerately while he coughed, as she made soothing noises. Giles thought there was altogether too much levity in her tone for his comfort.

He waved off her 'assistance' and looked at her carefully, his voice firm, "Are you avoiding answering my question? _Do_ you need help?"

Mary sighed and sat back, fiddling with the handle of her cup, "No." At his look, she said firmly, "Really. I'm still staying with father at the moment, but if I have to move, I assure you, I have sufficient resources to do whatever I wish. However," she smiled with disconcerting perceptiveness, "speaking of avoiding questions, why do I have the feeling you're avoiding mine about Winston?"

Her gaze made Giles feel like he was a particularly interesting specimen of insect about to be skewered for display as he prevaricated, "Why, um, would you ask that? I've told you the truth."

"Perhaps," Mary conceded, "but I…" Giles' cell phone rang and he fumbled it out and open, grateful for the interruption. That is, until he realized that it was Angel on the other end. His guarded conversation with the vampire did nothing to reduce Mary's suspicions and, as he was agreeing to meet Angel to follow up a strong lead, he could see that leaving was going to be very problematic—if the stormy look on her face was any indication.

"You've discovered Winston's whereabouts, haven't you? Mary's voice was deceptively calm as he hung up. She sounded very like her brother—or, even worse, her father—at that moment. Echoes of the days under his unfortunate tutelage came to mind.

Giles sighed, "No." He hesitated briefly, then continued reluctantly at her obviously growing anger, "We may have found someone who knows where he is though. We thought it would be better to try to deal with this ourselves while everyone else is so involved with Wesley's condition."

Mary nodded, "I agree that Fred need not be bothered with such details and I'm certainly not going to argue that Wesley hasn't been through enough, not to mention his total incapacitation at the moment, but why attempt to exclude me? I'm his sister. I have a valid right, even need, to protect him."

Giles protested, "This creature has special abilities that make everyone vulnerable to attack mentally. You know what it was like at the warehouse."

"Yes, but you obviously aren't letting that stop you?" Mary pointed out.

"True, but watchers and their slayers and apparently the undead have some protection from this thing," Giles looked at the tablecloth with apparent fascination.

"Rupert, I'm a watcher," Mary reminded him tersely.

"I know that. I-I…oh, damn," Giles frustration made him uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Finally, he sat back in resignation, "Angel would have to call at this moment." Leaning forward again, he made another stab at explaining himself, but could only say lamely, "I d-didn't want you to get hurt."

Giles winced at the hurt evident in her angry reply; pain he had inflicted, "You sound just like my father! What were you thinking, Giles,"

Giles winced again as he had gone in her estimation from Rupert to Giles in just seconds. He rubbed his still healing forehead, as he said ruefully, "I imagine I was thinking just like Angel. I wanted to protect someone I care about."

"Protect me! That's my father's excuse, too. That's it, isn't it? Protect the pathetic women and children. I'm too weak and incompetent to defend myself." She pushed her coffee cup away furiously, as her sarcasm grew, "Is that how you see me working in this brave, new council you've been talking about? Getting you and the other men coffee and files and telling you all what great big men you are, while you do the important work?"

Giles face whitened at her words, "No! No. I…I didn't mean it like that."

She looked at him sourly, "Then how did you mean it?"

"It's just…," Giles mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Yes?" she pressed.

Giles blurted out, "I lost someone I loved before. She…she was killed because…she was close to me. I just…I didn't want…" He clutched his coffee cup so tightly that Mary was afraid he might shatter it.

Mary put her hand over his, loosening his grip as she spoke, softening her tone, "We're in a dangerous business, Giles. By all rights, both of us should have died when the council blew up." Giles looked up and met her eyes stoutly for the first time since the conversation had begun, listening to her words intently, "We could die and that's just the way it is. Should I stop fighting for what I passionately believe in because of that?"

Giles released the endangered cup and intertwined his fingers with hers, "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself. I've just seen so much death and destruction that I wanted to try to protect some small precious part if I could. I just didn't want to risk someone I…uh…"

Mary leaned closer, her hand gently gripping his, "I love you too, Giles."

He looked startled and then his eyes began to shine with some inner realization and he smiled.

Mary smiled back, softening her next words, "Don't you think I would be devastated if you died running off with Angel to 'protect' me? Either of us may die at any time. It's part of the lifestyle we've chosen. But know this, if I die, I will have died the way I wanted to live; because I'll have really lived. Not some kind of half-life like my mother but _really_ lived. I'll have no regrets and I hope that you will feel the same."

Giles nodded, unable to speak.

"The only thing I would regret is if we lied to each other about how we feel. Wasted any more time because we don't really have the time to waste," Mary's smile grew mischievous again, "considering our advanced age."

Giles wasn't up to feeling humorous about the conversation yet, as he said soberly, "That was one of my greatest regrets with Jen…" Giles paused, uncomfortable at mentioning Jenny Calender's name.

"The other woman you loved?" Mary asked gently.

He nodded, his eyes down.

"She knew, Giles."

He looked up uncertainly, "How can you know that? You never even met her."

"I can see it in your eyes. Your eyes never lie—not about the truly important things. They are like beautiful windows to your soul. Your love shines out more expressively than words, as if you were shouting it to the world." She cupped the side of his face gently, "If I can see it, how could she not?"

She added offhandedly, "Of course, we women like words too."

"I d-do love you, Mary. I didn't think I'd ever love anyone again, but I love you." The smile that broke on his face was rare, genuine, beautiful.

So was hers as they moved in to kiss.

Giles said tongue-in-cheek, finally ready to lighten the tone, "That was a pretty big crush you had on me at the Academy, wasn't it?"

Mary replied offhandedly, "Oh, just a schoolgirl thing. After all you were the perfect antithesis of father and his suppose criteria for a 'good' boyfriend. I use to fantasize dating you and then telling him." Both grinned at the thought. Mary continued more seriously, "But I knew a good thing when I saw one, even then, which is pretty amazing if you consider my 'daddy' issues. No one I met along the way ever met up to my ideal." Giles blushed. "I think I always knew, deep inside, that no one else would do—even though you didn't know I existed."

Giles warned, "I will face risks without you. Like you say, it's part of the job."

"So will I," Mary agreed. "As long as we respect each other and face things together honestly, even when we're apart, we'll be fine."

"Together," Giles agreed.

"Together," Mary echoed.

Outside, a large city went about its business, traffic roared and honked, but inside, they were alone, together.

_To be continued…_

Author's note: Good news!. I'm far enough ahead that there shouldn't be any delays on the next two updates. I'm trying to get ahead enough so that I can keep updating regularly when school starts. We'll see. By the way, sorry about forgetting to change the chapter number last time. I don't use a beta, so all mistakes are mine, mine, mine! Oops!

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Thanks to Rainbow's End! Yes, the time is drawing near for Winston and Daddy dearest to get there respective backsides kicked! We still have a little way to go, but we're almost to the final storyline (2 chapters from now). Thanks for hanging in there. I'm happy to answer reviewers. I appreciate the reviews as it's the only pay I get (besides inner satisfaction at learning to write better), so answering them seems only fair. Glad you like Faith and Mary, cause there's quite a bit of them in this chapter. Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Short but sweet. Thanks to gopie! Much of Gunn will be explained next chapter. Good catch! I think they always portrayed him as a man who had feelings of inadequacy because of his background but presented an image of competency. This attempts to crystallize these feelings and deal with them. Selene's gonna be back! Bet on it. Thanks for comparing me to someone else you really like! Magic hands thing is important! Maybe not in the way you're thinking though. More later (quite a bit later). Yeah, couldn't resist the Gollum thing, Peter Jackson's movies are great. I will try to remember to mention what the better question is when it comes up in the plot. One hint, it's very similar to yours. Definitely more plot and twists coming. Thanks for explaining the bunny!


	37. The Coming Storm

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-seven)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Important Author's Notes at bottom!

Gunn settled back at his desk, the stack of papers from his presentation in a neat pile in front of him. He steepled his fingers and looked at the papers moodily.

"I thought your boss was the broody one?" Anne stood leaning against the door. She had had showered and changed and looked like a breath of fresh air in the confines of Wolfram and Hart's stuffy atmosphere.

"Yeah, well, it's probably contagious," Gunn offered wryly, smiling in spite of his mood. "What you doing here, girl? I thought you had things to do at the shelter?"

Anne moved in and settled into a chair before answering, "I did what I could, but most of the kids are staying away. I guess the shelter's getting a rep. You know, a zombie attack here (cops no less), a demon raid there, and all of the sudden no one wants to know you."

Gunn put his arms down, the papers forgotten for the moment, "Oh man, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? Only right I help after the help you gave me with the DVDs."

Anne smiled in appreciation, but nodded regretfully, "No, but thanks. They'll come back. It's sad to say, but when you're the only game in town, people really don't have much choice." She looked at the paperwork in front of him and asked, "So, how did the meeting go?"

Gunn looked down, frowning, "Angel really appreciated the info. Thanks for the help. I told him about you helping."

"I wasn't looking to make brownie points," Anne said firmly. "I just want you to get those bastards." She eyed him speculatively, "However, I'm guessing you weren't that happy about the meeting. Did something go wrong?"

"No, nothin' like that," Gunn answered quickly, and, then, as she looked at him like she knew he was putting her on, he said more slowly, "I'm just tired of being compared to Wesley and losing." She looked surprised and he admitted, "It just makes me feel stupid."

She looked at him for a long moment, considering his words carefully, "I know I don't know your friends that well, but I didn't realize you were competing with Wesley. Isn't he your friend?"

"Yeah, he is," Gunn agreed. "We had this problem for a while. We were both interested in the same girl, and, then, Wesley did something that hurt Angel really bad. He kept all this important stuff secret, after telling me he'd throw me out if I ever 'compromised the safety of the group" again by keeping secrets. I got really mad at him. It was so hypocritical, you know? Angel nearly went off the deep end and things got worse and worse. I…we…well, Wesley wasn't welcome at the hotel for a long time. Angel and Cordelia disappeared for a while and we didn't know what had happened to them. Fred and me were alone. It was just really bad and I couldn't help feeling that it was somehow all his fault."

"Wow," Anne said, trying to process Gunn's words. "I remember seeing just you and Fred running around alone a lot about a year ago. I knew something was wrong. You guys seemed really stressed out." Both sat silently for a few moments; then, Anne spoke again, "Was Fred the girl you were interested in?"

Reluctantly, Gunn nodded.

"Hmm, I see," Anne sighed, "and he won her in the end, didn't he."

"No! Yes…I don't know…I…not really," Gunn's confusion got Anne up to come around and sit on the desk near his chair. He looked up at her. She smiled at him with compassion, giving him time to get it together. Gunn tried to explain, "I broke it off with her, but I think I did it because I knew it wasn't gonna last. I'm just the muscle and she's so brainy, it's scary." He leaned back and sighed again, then smirked without humor at some inner joke, "I guess I could read the writing on the wall."

"You're not just muscle, Gunn," Anne said quietly. "You're a man who lived on the street, fought on the street, and protected those who had no one else. That crew you put together. They did a lot of good. Still do. And even though you don't live there anymore, you still fight for and protect those who need your help. I know, if I need help, you'd be there, no questions asked." She smiled wanly, "Do you know how really rare that is?"

"I guess when I lost my crew, I felt kinda useless. I mean, I can kill things, but all I keep hearin' is that Angel's the big champion and Wes is the brains. I just hit things. I'm like one of those wussy sidekicks on TV."

Anne threw her head back and swung her legs back and forth for a minute, thinking about what he said. Gunn had to admit, she looked fine—damn fine. It took an effort to concentrate on her words when she finally spoke.

"You know, your problem is that you're busy comparing yourself with others, rather than seeing yourself as something special on your own." She looked at him, making sure he was listening and then continued, "You and me are a lot alike." She shook her head disapprovingly at his snort, "Oh, I don't mean the muscle stuff. But we both had to get along on our own. All these people you work with now, they grew up in one home, they had families. I doubt they ever spent time under some bridge wondering if they were gonna starve when they were ten."

Gunn looked away, "They didn't have it all easy."

Anne agreed, "Yeah, But we know about having to find our own way as kids, while trying to survive. Bound to make a lot of mistakes. Lots of kids on the streets die trying to figure it all out, but we made it. We made something good out of our lives and we do our best to make others' lives better. Me at the shelter and you fighting with Angel." She smiled, "We did great."

Gunn smiled too, "Yeah, we did."

"There are always going to be people who are doing better, but most of 'em haven't come as far, and we aren't done yet."

Gunn echoed, "No, we aren't." He leant his head back on the chair, "Thanks." He looked at Anne, more relaxed now, "You really know what to say to make a brother feel better."

"Sure, I've had a lot of practice at the shelter." She shoved off the desk, commenting wryly, "But I had to start with myself."

He nodded, understanding as she headed towards the door. She paused just short, turning back to him to say, "One more thing, I can't help remembering this skinny, white guy with glasses who came to the shelter looking for you, worried about you, who went right out, even though people were getting killed on the streets. _Because_ people were getting killed on the streets. Because_ you_ were on the streets." Gunn's smile disappeared at her words.

Anne pressed on, "Next time I saw him, he was shot in the stomach." She paused, "Friends like that are hard to find, Gunn."

"Yeah, you're right," Gunn nodded and smiled again. "I've been trying to fix things up with him. I do wanna let go of all this stuff." He stood up, stretched, and walked over to the door, "Thanks for helping me work this out. It's been festering for a while. I would have been all kinds of sorry if I dumped all this on him."

She gave him a hug, "No problem. Call me if I can help, or even if you just need someone to talk to again. You going to visit him in the hospital?"

"Not today, unless he wakes up. I think I'll do him more good if I help find the things that are trying to hurt him," Gunn avowed.

"Sounds like the words of a friend," Anne said smilingly.

He looked outside at the beginning dawn, "Wow, is it that late?"

She laughed, "No, it's that early."

He grinned, "Wanna get something to eat. Least I can do after talking your ears off is feed you."

"Never turn down a free meal, that's my philosophy," Anne agreed cheerfully.

Gunn steered her to the door, "Well, let's get to it. Where do you wanna eat?"

"Hmmm," Anne considered for a moment, then suggested, "There's this diner I used to work at, food's not bad and I can probably get a discount."

Gunn stopped for a second, "Know what, I think I've had enough of diners. How about I really treat you. You like steak?"

"Can you get one this time of day?" Anne asked surprised.

"Hey, I've got a lot of pull these days," Gunn puffed his chest in self-mocking bluster.

"Okay," Anne agreed amiably.

Gunn shut the door quietly on many things as he left.

…..

Angel surveyed the hospital room from the entrance. Except for the glass wall and the size (it was much bigger) it really wasn't much different from the one Wesley had been in when Angel had tried to smother him. The bed was on the right wall centered, big windows on the far wall, and bathroom on the left. Fred's back was to him. Fred had apparently finally fallen asleep, exhausted from her ordeal. Her head touched Wesley's, hands still firmly linked, even in sleep.

"Hey, Angel, what's up?" Faith spoke softly so not to wake the woman across from her. She faced Angel from her position on the other side of the bed. From there she could observe anyone who approached and Angel had no doubt she had quietly observed him from the second he'd come into sight. Angel moved to the foot of the bed asking pensively, "How's he doing?"

"He's good," Faith stood and stretched. She could swear the barely cushioned wooden chair had gotten harder hour by hour. "He's breathin' on his own now. Tubes are out." She smiled despite her sore backside.

Angel looked relieved, "Great!" He looked around and grabbed another chair from along the wall next to the bathroom, "You mind if I sit down?"

"Nope, but I think I'm gonna stand. That chair's starting to assimulate my but," Faith groused good-naturedly.

"Assimilate," Angel asked, confused.

"Sorry, too much old TV in prison," Faith explained, stretching from side to side.

Angel gave up trying to figure that one out and moved on to why he was there. "I've got some good news, although the timing isn't great," Angel glanced briefly at the unconscious man nearby.

"Yeah? What's up?" Faith asked curiously. Then her eyes brightened, "You found him! When do we go smoke Winston!"

Angel chuckled, "Nope, sorry. Giles and I followed up a lead, but it didn't pan out. Soon, hopefully, but not yet." He smiled, "The lawyers are done. You go to court tomorrow and leave a free woman."

Faith smiled broadly, "Really? That's cool." Her smile faltered as she looked at Wesley, "I get what you were saying about timing, though." She shook her head, "No way, I'm leaving him this time. If I'd stayed upstairs in the warehouse, he wouldn't be in this fix. It'll just have to wait." She plopped back down in the chair, winced a little, and then scowled, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"He told you to go," Fred's soft voice floated up unexpectedly and the two others looked at her in surprise. "Well, he did," she looked back and forth at the two.

Angel got over his surprise first, "Everybody did their best. We just got blindsided with that Morlock thing."

"Morlock?" Fred was confused.

"That Ickycreepygrossthingy that tried to eat our brains," Faith explained.

"Isn't a Morlock something out of a H.G. Wells book?" Fred was still confused.

"That's what Giles calls it. Get him to explain. He won't be able to shut up if you ask," Faith said smirking. She looked at Angel, tilting her head towards Fred, "You can always tell the bookworms."

"Actually, I got it from the movie," Fred said slightly miffed.

Faith, suddenly remembering, spoke up, "Hey! I think I saw that one. Old 'war is probably a bad thing' movie. But the Morlocks in that were different than this thing; they were more like the Phin ta' demon or maybe grey pigs with two legs. Personally, I'm stickin' with Gollum."

"Huh?" Fred was really confused now.

"Icky looks like Gollum. You know, out of _Lord of the Rings_."

Wesley stirred slightly, made a small sound, and then stopped moving again. Fred instantly spoke to him, placing her free hand on his forehead comfortingly.

They all watched for a few moments hopefully, but when it became clear that no other activity was imminent, they continued their conversation.

"Oh, Fred, I nearly forgot," Angel snapped his fingers suddenly. "Giles said to pass on a message from Mary. She's running…interference with her father." Angel looked at Wesley a moment, "He's being…difficult. Anyway, she'll be in later."

Fred nodded in understanding and explained to Faith, "You shoulda heard it when Mary called Wesley's father." She smiled sadly, "Wesley's dad is a real stinker."

"Yeah, I got that at our first meeting," Faith said smirking.

Angel piped up with a sudden thought, "I think it's amazing the number of dysfunctional families we have in our little cadre. If it weren't for your folks, Fred, and Buffy's mother, I don't think I'd believe in good parents."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Buffy's mom was great," Faith admitted sadly, then smiled, "Kinda gives me hope though, somethin' to fight for, like. Cause there are people out there like that."

"Faith, you've got to go," Angel spoke softly, but firmly. "I promise I'll stay until you get back. The sooner you get this done, the better." He added softly, "Then you'll really be able to get back into the fight without all this baggage."

Faith said a little sadly, "There'll always be baggage, Angel. But I get what you mean."

Angel nodded in understanding.

Faith looked at Fred, who nodded her approval at the idea; then, Faith agreed after a moment's hesitation, "Okay, but soon as I'm done, I'm back…and you don't do so much as a potty break, right?"

"No potty breaks, got it," Angel carefully kept his face and voice under control.

"He only has to go next door, they have a bathroom for guests in that room," Fred suggested helpfully.

"No leavin' the watcher," Faith said firmly.

"Got it," Angel reassured her as he continued, "I called Giles. He's going to meet you at the courthouse. Oh," Angel warned, "and don't sign anything. I told the lawyers already. Give me the names of any that still try."

"Oh, you gonna get all toothy on them, big guy?" Faith smirked, "I've handled lawyers before, you know."

"We're trying to keep you out of jail, Faith, not put you back in," Angel said patiently. "Better let me do the handling."

"Okey-dokey." Faith turned to Fred more seriously, "Back as soon as I can, promise."

Fred nodded and smiled, "I know. Maybe he'll be awake by then."

Faith smiled back, "Yeah, maybe he will."

…..

Outside the hospital, Faith looked up at the near-dawn sky she seen so little of while in prison. The air had a familiar tang to it. She'd been good at predicting the weather when she'd lived in Boston but hadn't had much call to use it while living in Los Angeles. The smell had that hint of moisture in it. It didn't rain a lot in sunny Cal, but looking overhead again, she muttered aloud, "Storm's coming," and moved down the stairs to the awaiting limousine.

…..

Fred, exhausted, was asleep again. She had refused to leave Wesley's side again and rested her head, instead, on her arm next to Wesley's head. The early beginnings of dawn sent dim early morning light peeking in through the slightly open slats of the window blinds. In the bed, Wesley moved restlessly, moaning as faint vertical lines of light crossed his closed eyelids. He turned his face away, wincing in discomfort as the nurse checked him expertly and, after a quick assessment, shut the blinds totally. Fred woke instantly, blinking rapidly against the sleep she needed. Wesley immediately relaxed, made a small "hmmm" and seemed to fall asleep again. While Fred watched anxiously, the nurse checked Wesley again, made a small "hmmm" of her own, and adjusted his IV's. The nurse smiled ingratiatingly, "Sorry about the blinds." Angel, who had been about to close them himself rather than face immolation, just nodded silently. Fred did a checkover of Wesley herself, wiping the sleep from her eyes wearily.

"Fred, you need to get some real sleep. The nurse said she can roll in a cot for you," Angel stood to put words to action.

"No, I don't want to…leave him," Fred yawned widely in the middle of her sentence.

"You're not going to do him any good if you end up in the next room," Angel warned.

Fred looked around dazedly and, her face pale against the white bandage on her neck, nodded in defeat, "Maybe we could put the cot…next to the bed somehow."

Angel assured her, "I'm sure we can."

…..

Angel could hear the doctor speaking imperiously as he came down the hallway, "Look, what's wrong with you people. First, you lose them; then you say you've found them, but these are not his x-rays!" The doctor stopped outside the room to speak coldly to the technician hovering nearby, "Ms. Holbright will not be happy."

The technician stammered fearfully, trying to apologize. Finally, the doctor waved him off in disgust shoving the set of x-rays in the frightened technician's trembling hands, "Never mind. I should have known better than to wait for hospital results. Better to get them done again myself." He stalked into the room and spoke quietly to the nurse for a moment. She handed him the chart giving him an update efficiently; then, she moved to the phone and made a discreet call.

Still keeping an eye curiously on the technician outside the room, Angel saw him turn and run into Ms. Holbright who seemed to have appeared like magic at the mention of her name. The technician paled and shrunk back apologizing profusely again. Ms. Holbright plucked the x-rays out of his hands neatly and after a few quiet words turned smartly to head to her office, the technician following reluctantly, almost as if he were towed against his will.

"So," the doctor smiled genially, instantly the most kindly of men and keeping his voice down courteously to avoid waking Fred, "I hear our patient is doing a little better, Mr. Angel."

Angel nodded silently, unwilling to risk waking Fred either.

The doctor pulled out a stethoscope and began an examination. He worked quietly around Fred's cot, but checked everything to his satisfaction.

The doctor moved around to Angel, "He's looking fine. He's still not awake and that's a little concerning, but the nurse believes he was responding to Ms. Burkle's presence." The doctor smiled, "That's a good sign. He looked at the chart again, "The EEG looked normal, he responded to light stimulus." The doctor looked up and offered, "Sometimes patients just need more time, especially when the injuries are as tramatic as Mr. Wyndam-Pryce's. Let's wait and see for a few more hours. If necessary, I'll order a few more tests." He looked at Fred sleeping nearby and mentioned, "If Ms. Burkle wishes to speak to me when she wakes up, just let the nurse know."

The nurse, who'd waited patiently during the doctor's examination, now stepped up, "It may be a while on the x-rays, doctor. Both portable machines are down in the ER. A multiple car pile-up on the 110. They're going crazy down there."

"That's alright," the doctor said genially. "His lungs sound fine and all his vitals have steadily improved all night. I think we can wait our turn." He looked at Angel, "Just have the nurse call if you have any concerns at all. I'm on call 24-7." He gave one final reassuring grin and moved on.

Ickycreepygrossthing term used by the kind permission of –J (a wonderfully creative reviewer).

Author's Notes: Three important notes: First, I am updating on Saturdays now. I think I forgot to mention that, but it seems to work out better for me. Second, I am starting college again. Yugh! I will update every two weeks starting now, barring problems at school and home. I really apologize because things are going to heat up in the story starting next chapter. I tried to get as far as I could this summer. Oh well (sigh). Hang in there, I will finish it. The third important item is that I am greatly inspired by Evanescence's amazing album "Fallen." If you don't have the album, I highly recommend it. I don't want to turn this into a songfic; however, in some chapters, if I closely associate a song with some portion of the chapter, I will let you know the song and which characters it's referring to (in my mind). Feel free to play it before or after you read the chapter. Also, some of the chapter titles may be taken from their album (or paraphrased anyway). As usual, this is not intended to infringe on their copyright; this is meant to acknowledge their great songs and their positive influence (I hope) on my writing. No profit is made.

Thanks to my two wonderful reviewers! Thanks to Spuffyshipper! I kinda though the Mary/Giles went a little too quickly to the "I love you" stage (A little forced), but I'm glad you liked it. I sort of wished Wesley's dad wasn't a robot too. I thought it took a lot of the dramatic tension away (it's all a dream and Bobby's in the shower kind of stuff—that's a "Dallas" TV show reference if you don't get it). Believe me, it applies. In any case, I guess they weren't prepared to go down the very rocky road they'd have to travel if he'd really killed his dad (I think he'd have turned himself in, if he was true to character). Enjoy all your upcoming dates, they sound like fun. Especially happy birthday (just in case I forget when it comes because college has skewered my brain by then)! Thanks to gopie! Glad you liked the Fred and Faith conversation. Faith has learned—redemption is possible. That Mary flashback about Wesley as a baby is a reference to a conversation that Mary and Fred had in chapter 14. I'm not surprised you don't remember it. This story is waaay toooo looong… There will be more of them, definitely. I'm really glad you appreciate them. They are intended to provide insight into the characters' motivations and actions. Some of them are also clues to some things that are going on in the plot. Glad you like Mary. I really wanted a believable love interest for Giles. I was always annoyed that they never had any credible love interest for Giles after Jenny Calendar. I know they had his sex-friend, Olivia, but that isn't the same as a relationship. Hopefully, I'm showing Mary as strong without being too perfect. Thanks for continuing to review!


	38. Through a Glass Darkly

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-eight)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Author's Note: I have only three words to say about Graduate School: Oh…My…God!

Fred looked up happily as Mary arrived.

"I'm sorry it took so long." Mary looked over Wesley, pleased to see the tubes removed and explained, "My father is infuriating. Do you know what that man said when I told him how Wesley'd been injured? He was positively gloating."

Making her look insufferably smug, she did a fair imitation of her father's deeper, precise, and clipped manner of speech, 'It appears that he didn't do any better with Winston than we did. At least Winston used his first team on us!'"

Dropping the act, Mary grimaced, "Sometime's I have a fantasy that my mother cheated outrageously with the milkman and my last name is really O'Reilly. Really, a happier situation for everyone, I can't imagine." Moving to the far side of the bed, Mary dropped into her chair in disgust, putting her things, including a raincoat, aside. Giving Fred a good look, she smiled, "You look a little better too, love. Did you get some rest?"

"Yes," Fred smiled shyly, "Angel made me."

Angel, sitting next to Mary, shrugged a little, content to listen to the conversation.

"Have you eaten," Mary asked.

"They bring trays to me," Fred reddened at the special treatment. "Ms. Holbright arranged it. They even bring blood in for Angel."

"Umm…yes. I think it'll take a while for me to get used to that one," Mary commented.

Angel looked a little uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Mary added a little ruefully.

Angel sighed, "No problem. I understand."

Fred spoke, changing the awkward conversation, "Is it raining?"

"No," Mary answered, grateful for the new topic, "but it looks like a real corker brewing up out there."

Angel stood and pried two slats of the blinds apart minutely to get a look. Mary noticed with wonder that his fingertips smoked slightly.

Forcing herself to look away, she proceeded to ask questions and get the latest information on her brother's condition.

They were all pleased when Wesley seemed to move a little in response to their voices. Although he didn't wake up, they were sure that it was only a matter of time before he would.

…..

"I coulda gotten a sore backside sitting by Wesley. At least then I'd be doing something important," Faith grumbled.

"This _is_ important, Faith," Giles rubbed his eyes, tired from the long wait. "However, I agree, with all these unaccountable delays, we might as well have arrived tomorrow. It appears we might be back here then anyway." Both slumped back in their chairs, irritated.

One of the team of lawyers from Wolfram and Hart smiled. The rest of the team was steamed at the delays, first the judge was delayed and then all the courtrooms were taken, but Pendrake, a traitor who had not been discovered in the recent purge, shuffled papers busily while the law clerk that he'd bribed continued to stall.

…..

"Right. We haven't seen much change, unfortunately, so I'm going to order several tests," the doctor started scribbling in the chart. He looked up to smile reassuringly, "They're just precautionary. I'm just looking for a little more information to make sure everything is okay."

Fred gripped Wesley's hand tighter.

…..

"What do you mean he's getting tests? When is he getting back?" Winston fumed at the delay to his plans.

The disembodied voice over his cell was no comfort, "I don't know, sir. These things tend to take on a life of their own. I'll call you as soon as I do."

Winston slammed his phone shut angrily, "This is ridiculous. It took all this time to get everything ready, I have the perfect opportunity to get my brother, and he goes walkies to get 'tests'!"

Easton put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "You really need to develop some patience, Winston. We can't help the amount of time it took for the new recruits to rise, not to mention briefing and preparations. Wussly will be back soon and before you know it, he'll be in the fold."

"Right. You're right," Winston grinned, reassured. "By tonight, he'll be here." There was no more to be said.

…..

"Giles, this sucks," Faith stood suddenly, "I need to get back." Outside, the light was fading as day turned into night. Rain sprinkled against the window lightly.

Giles stood, nodding in agreement. He had managed to spend part of the day fruitfully by keeping in touch with the research department and directing each phase of their hunt for useful information. In fact, they'd discovered one lead that looked particular likely. However, enough was enough. He looked around for one of the numerous Wolfram and Hart mouthpieces, "Let me find someone, Faith."

Seeing the possibility that his fish might wriggle off the hook, the traitorous lawyer made a small signal and the law clerk suddenly announced the availability of a court, if they moved right away. He would inform the judge. The gaggle herded Faith and her watcher into the room that had been vacant and waiting all day—if they but knew.

…..

The nurse adjusted the blinds, allowing the stormy night to rage against the panes of glass. Rain splattered heavily against the window reducing visibility to a world of storm and strife. Fred, Mary, and Angel reentered the empty room, moving quickly to one side for the team behind them.

Personnel rolled the gurney in carefully and moved Wesley smoothly back into his bed. Fred stood by, impatient to regain the reassuring connection with Wesley while technicians reconnected, checked, and reapplied the support and monitoring systems for their patient.

Once finished, one of the med techs moved down the hallway to report, as ordered, the return of the target.

…..

Mary closed her cell phone with a definitive snap, "I have to go. Rupert has a lead on Winston." She smiled wryly, "After reading Rupert the riot act for attempting to leave me out of things, I can't very well say no when he tries to include me, can I?"

"If he can go check out a lead, he and Faith must be done," Angel said in relief. "Good, I've got some informants to…um…question."

Mary smiled and said archly, "Yes, right. Giles and I have a few people to _talk_ to as well."

"Tell him to be careful," Angel admonished, wishing he could go with them.

Mary paused at the door, quirking an eyebrow as she looked at Angel. At that moment she looked very like Wesley. "We promise not to get into fisticuffs without you," Mary said sardonically.

Angel gave a small smile, "I've seen both of you in action. I don't think I'm too worried about that. More like, I don't want to miss the action."

Mary gave a brilliant smile at the comment, waved, and left.

…..

"Hey, Angel, how's it going?" Faith entered the room briskly carrying a tote bag.

"Faith!" Angel stood in delight. "How'd it go?"

Faith grinned and did a thumbs-up. Moving around to his chair, she asked, "So, are you going to leave now?"

A little surprised at Faith's abruptness (even for her), Angel had to search for an answer quickly, "Ah, sure, I…yeah." He looked at Fred, "I'll come back in the morning. Let me know if anything changes, okay?"

Fred nodded and then looked hard at the vampire, "Find him, Angel. Please?"

Angel nodded gravely back, "We're doing our best. I'll let you know if anything breaks. Take care of yourself. See you tomorrow." With that, he stalked out, ready to begin the hunt again.

Faith moved around the bed to Fred, "Hey, I brought you a change of clothes, toiletries, and some girl stuff. I thought you might want to spruce up for when he wakes up." Faith held up the tote bag for Fred to see.

"I-I don't want to leave Wesley," Fred clung a little tighter to Wesley's hand. He shifted his body and turned his head in response slightly.

"I bet somewhere in this mausoleum of a hospital, they have a spare shower you can use to freshen up in," Faith grinned.

The nurse, making some notes on a chart just outside the room heard and spoke up, "Certainly, Miss. In fact, we reserved the room next to this just in case someone needed to rest or use the facilities or whatever. It has a full-up bathroom," She added encouragingly with a smile.

"I don't know," Fred looked at both women uncertainly, "I don't want to leave him alone."

"What are we? Swiss cheese?" Faith asked brightly. "Look sweetie, take my word for it, you don't want him to wake up and see you like this. You'll send him back into a coma," Faith grabbed Fred under the arm and gently lifted, "Come on, Fred. You'll feel better for it. Really."

Fred looked at Wesley, who lay quietly, apparently comfortable and relaxed again, and she gave in, "I guess a shower would be nice."

Faith gave her the tote and herded her out of the room into the waiting arms of the nurse who guided her down the hallway. Once they were gone, Faith turned to look at the unconscious watcher, her gaze reflective.

The nurse reentered, smiling, "She settled in nicely. What a nice idea!"

Faith smiled back, taking the nurse by the hand, saying, "Yes, I thought so," while the nurse's mouth gaped open as if to scream but became stuck. The nurse wriggled ineffectually trying to drag back her hand while Faith wrapped her arm around her and almost tenderly hobbled her over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

…..

Fred peeled off the clothes she'd been wearing for two days and stepped gratefully into the hot shower.

…..

Faith entered the hospital whistling. Seeing a soda machine, she changed her direction, dragging out a bill from her pocket. Surveying the choices, she opted for caffeine and inserted the bill which was promptly eaten, "Damn!" Irritated, she banged the side of the machine, swearing softly. She looked around surreptitiously and then, seeing no one around, she picked up the machine and dropped it back into place.

Swaying drunkenly, the machine finally came to a rest leaning to the left and one soda dropped down with a _ker-plunk_. She grinned and pulled it out—when another dropped. Her grin faded as sodas started to drop out, one at a time. Scowling at the machine, hands on hips in irritation, she admitted aloud, "Okay, that might a' been overkill."

…..

Angel was tired of waiting. It had taken forever for the second elevator to arrive. The first was crowded with a patient on a gurney and medical personnel who were apparently transiting to another floor. But finally Angel was able to get on an elevator and begin his downward descent.

…..

_It exited the bathroom and then the room and marched purposefully down the hallway, still in its slayer-beast guise. Positively glowing inwardly from its recent meal, it smiled at the sole nurse sitting behind the counter of the nurses' station. Not even bothering to stop, it waved its hand as it passed. The nurse saw only Faith and pressed the release button for the security door. Jerking the door open easily, it grabbed the security guard by the arm and, looking back at the nurse, it fed on the guard and the nurse at the same time, dragging the guard in unceremoniously while the nurse slipped to the floor in agony that mercifully turned in seconds into an unconscious state. She had time to weakly push the alarm button, but no satisfying loud klaxon resulted; she only just had time to register surprise. She was neither protected by the bullet proof vest hidden under her uniform nor able to reach the automatic weapon secreted behind the counter._

_It released the dried husk of the security guard, the man's mouth stretched in a more permanent shade of agony than the nurse, to fall onto the floor breaking apart in three large crumbly chunks. It felt amazingly good, filled to the brim with the bright sparks of two such fine meals in such a short time. Keeping the door open, it pushed the button on a device it was carrying that sent a signal. _

Down the hall, a supply closet opened and a gurney pushed by six men clothed head to toe in black and wearing silenced automatic weapons slung on their backs pushed through the open security door whose mystical wards had unaccountably failed. One man shoved the remains of the security guard behind the counter as they pushed down the hallway and into Wesley's room. Once they were in, everything once again appeared perfectly normal in the hallway and one of the figures in black quietly slid closed the inside blinds that closed the room off from the outside world.

At the now unattended nurses' station, a monitor suddenly squealed a steady tone and an automated system kicked off. Overhead, a prerecorded voice announced calmly, "Code Blue, Ward 13, Room 1, Code Blue, Ward 13, Room 1."

People, including Dr. Atherton, came at a run from the other end of the hallway wheeling lifesaving equipment with them. All entered the room quickly.

Muffled sounds of a struggle came from inside; the sound-proofing was good but not perfect. The few screams could be heard, if only someone had been there to hear them. From the outside, with the blinds shut, all still appeared normal until the blinds were pushed flat in several spots in rapid succession, and then something big hit in one spot flattening the slats one by one as though something, or someone, slid down from the inside. Blood began to drip down through some of the slats as if they cried red tears. All was silent once again.

…..

Angel exited the elevator to see Faith staring at a soda machine gone mad. Confused, he called out, Faith? Why aren't you upstairs? How did you…"

She looked at him in equal confusion.

He looked back at the closed doors of the elevator and towards Faith in growing realization, when they both heard overhead, "Code Blue, Ward 13, Room 1, Code…" They looked at each other for a second, reached the same conclusion simultaneously, and then ran in tandem for the stairs. Behind them, the crazed soda machine continued to drop sodas regularly at five second intervals, sprinkling the floor with its offering.

…..

Fred eased her head back under the water, allowing the spray to pulse over her in a cleansing rhythm. She rinsed the shampoo thoroughly from her long, dark hair. Somewhere dimly, she thought she could hear a voice on a loudspeaker repeating something insistently, but she was unable to make out the words. At first, she ignored it, then she shut off the water to try to make them out, but the words had stopped. Puzzled, she turned off the water and began to dress, unaccountably anxious to return to Wesley's room.

…..

_It rode the elevator down, glorying in the smooth efficiency of the operation. It had been willing to meet the slayer, more than willing, but its employer had feared the plan failing in her presence. It had to admit, things had gone well. _

_It thought expansively of the wonderful meals. The fulfillment, the rush even, it got from a meal, not grabbed from the shadows fearfully, but boldly attacked. It was like the days of old when its kind ruled their home world. Then they had lived! The food had known its place, and the morsels, not its brethren, lived and died in fear. They had eaten their fill until their world lay in waste at their feet and the time had come to seek new hunting grounds. _

_At this thought, it grew bold. There might be time to truly feed before it left. Food in hospitals was steeped in an amazing variety of emotions, the flavors permeating the meat so satisfyingly, and the food was so helpless, too. Perhaps it was the meeting with the slayer, but it was sick of hiding, of feeling empty. It had been a long time since it felt like it could gorge itself and it loved all you can eat buffets._

…..

Fred walked down the hallway, stopping at the sight of the closed, bloody blinds. Dropping her things, she ran shoving the door wide, afraid of what she would see on the other side. Unbelieving, her eyes could not comprehend the bodies strewn around the room. In shock, her mind registered among the atrocities, for later examination, the torn out throat of Dr. Atherton and the broken body of a particularly nice nurse who'd sat with her the first night and who was now draped over the equally broken tray table—all the stuff of nightmares for years to come. But there was no Wesley.

Blood covered nearly everything as if it had been poured from buckets. It had an odd gritty look to it as if mixed with ashes. An empty, blood-sprayed gurney sat askew next to an equally empty and bloody bed while tubes and wires hung like a macabre set from some horror movie. The all-important monitor that Fred had listened to for so long lay on its side still emitting a weak but steady tone. Beside the bed was a shattered chair. Pieces of it had ended up near the door and Fred kneeled, fumbling, to pick up a stake-like piece of the sticky wood. Looking at it, she realized it was blood covered too and had to steel herself to hang on to it.

Holding up the weapon, Fred stepped in hesitantly, her voice wavering, "W-Wesley?"

She jumped as the door to the bathroom opened along the left wall unexpectantly; a familiar white robed figure stepped out backwards allowing her a side-view of part of his familiar profile. Like everything else, blood had splattered over his torn gown. He held his ears as if blocking out something painful.

Heartened, Fred dropped her arm to her side and moved a couple of steps towards him, crying out weakly in relief, "Wesley? Are you alright?"

"Fred?" His voice was tremulous, confused, "Fred? I'm not there." He pointed into the bathroom shakily. He seemed to wince in pain drawing his hands back to his ears and bending over for a second. Then, he straightened and said strangely, "I'm sooo hungry." He dropped his arms loosely to his side and looked at her—his face warped into the ridges of a vampire and his eyes glowed with an inner fire of brilliant gold. They burned straight into her soul, clawing deep, shredding the wholeness of it. He took a slow step towards her.

Giving a half-broken sob, Fred covered her mouth with her hand, backed a step involuntarily, and dropped the improvised stake to clatter noisily to the floor.

He screamed and covered his ears again, twisting his body in agony. Stopping, he looked up and growled, a predator angered beyond belief. He took a crouching step towards her and she half screamed and half sobbed stumbling backwards. Grabbing his ears again, he turned and ran straight at the window, crashing through into the windy, dark night.

The violent storm pushed wind and rain into the room causing the broken remains of the blinds to fling against the frame in a clatter and the curtains to billow wildly whipping them with a crack.

Forcing herself to move up, Fred looked into the bathroom with trepidation. The water was running in a blood-streaked sink. On the floor lay the distorted husk of the nurse, but where Wesley had pointed was simply the mirror that showed Fred's white, shocked face—and for Wesley, had shown nothing at all.

Beyond the window, was only empty night filled with sheets of obscuring rain. Wesley was gone.

_I looked through the glass darkly,_

_Trying desperately to see,_

_But through my warped reflection,_

_There was nothing left of me._

With apologies to Saint Paul.

To be continued…

**So, does the story summary finally make sense? Try not to panic. More to come before we're through.**

Thanks to my kind reviewers! Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Wesley finally woke up. Please don't beat me; just hang on. As far as daddy issues, yes, I agree, Joss must have had bags of them. Giles/Joyce would have worked, but they didn't go that way. Oh well. I love the actor that played Snyder. He's a hoot, especially when eaten. I don't get to watch TV much. Too much school work, unfortunately. Thanks to Rainbow's End! Thanks for the two in one review! Glad you liked all the conversations. I do like trying to give meaning to things that happened in the show. They never really had time to address them. I agree about Gunn. I'll start soon attaching songs to chapters (perhaps even next chapter). Evanescence is amazing! I'll have to try Green Day. Thanks for understanding about the school. I share your yuck and raise you an ick! Thank you –J! No songfic! 'S_ongfic bad. Tree pretty.' _Actually, they can be good. I just prefer to put my own words down. Glad you really liked the Anne/Gunn conversation. I was worried it was all getting to talky. Yes, Angel's comparison of hospital rooms was likely and sobering. I really enjoyed putting in the sci fi/fantasy references. Glad someone else liked them. Thanks for the 'icky' idea. It was perfect. You rule. Glad you liked Faith and Angel conversation. Potty breaks may have been a little over the top, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yes, storm coming, forshadowing, yes. Faith is not done, by any means. I'm not commenting on the x-ray scene. You noticed it, good catch. Thanks for your patience. Thanks to goldenshadows! Short, but sweet. Glad you enjoyed the Anne/Gunn. Thanks to gopie! The beauty of Evanescence is that the music speaks to each listener deeply but is given a different meaning by each listener. I suppose that could be said of all music, but Evanescence is, to paraphrase Xander, "the music of pain." Winston shall return. Give him time. Wesley woke up. I know it wasn't what you expected.


	39. Hollow

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Thirty-nine)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Author's Note: After careful consideration, I have strong feelings that I would like to share about the value of higher education…Aaaahhhhh!

Angel and Faith reached the security door together, but no security guard stood there. Looking through the tiny metal reinforced window, they couldn't see anyone at the nurses' station or in the hallway.

They looked at each other, and, without a word, they both simultaneously stepped back and kicked the door, breaking the lock cleanly allowing it to swing freely on its hinges. Running past the empty nurses' station, they ran down the hallway to the room and slammed through the door ready to fight. Angel saw the devastation, the bodies, but ignored them at the sight of his friend. Fred stood next to the open bathroom, her back to them. She was still and failed to react to their entrance.

Angel stepped up, looking in the bathroom to see it empty except for the desiccated body of the nurse and then took Fred gently by the shoulders turning her to face him, "Fred?" Getting no response and worried by her blank face, he repeated, "Fred? What happened? Where's Wesley?"

Fred blinked, and blinked again, and then her face crumpled as she began to sob, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Faith surveyed the room, checking the bodies for life and finding none, and then looked out the broken window, her hair blowing wildly in the heavy wind.

Angel looked at her and she shook her head 'no' silently. Pointing out of the room indicating she was going to look around, she moved carefully around the pair and disappeared beyond view. Angel desperately wanted to look around too, but Fred was incoherent and obviously deep in shock. He couldn't leave her like this. Guiding her out, he took her to the next room and got her to lie down on the bed. Strangely pliant, she moved obediently to where he directed her. She had quieted down quickly and her face was pale and still again, the trails of tears still wet on her face. Despite his gentle questioning, she said nothing. She seemed to have no will, no voice, no strength left within her. Angel was afraid to leave her alone. He took up her cold hand and tried to rub some warmth into it.

Faith popped in her head to say softly, "Nobody's left alive in the ward except a nurse at the counter. Or maybe I should say, under the counter. She's alive and seems okay except that she's pretty out of it. I don't think we're gonna get anything out of her tonight. There's a body behind the counter; the security guard." Faith grimaced, "His body, it's…bad. I've seen it before. I think the two of them were attacked by that Morlock thing. The people attacked at the warehouse looked a lot like these two afterwards, depending on if they were alive or not. Other than that, everybody on the ward seems to be dead." Looking at Fred, she asked, "How is she? She say what happened to Wes yet?"

Angel shrugged helplessly, "She's in shock. Get a doctor, will you?"

Faith started to leave and then thought better of it, "I don't know as we want anybody in here, with the bodies and all." She added doubtfully, "I'd suggest taking her to the ER, but I'm not so sure it's safe. Maybe you should take her to that Wolfram and Hart clinic you guys've got back at the range."

"Good idea. I'll call Gunn. He can come take her." Angel pulled out his cell phone, which miraculously worked for once, and started pushing buttons.

Faith looked around the unnervingly quiet ward, commenting, "It's like the _Twilight Zone_. I keep thinkin' Rod Serling's gonna pop out somewhere." Turning unhappily towards Angel, worry gnawed at her voice, "What happened to Wes, Angel?"

Angel said nothing; he just looked at her. His frustration was as great as hers, with the added fear that came from the lingering smell of Wes' blood in his nostrils.

Whatever had happened here, Wesley had bled.

Faith pulled out her phone, "I'm gonna call Giles. After I bring the nurse in here, I'll be in the next room trying to figure out what happened."

Angel longed to join Faith, but if he couldn't do anything for Wes right now, he could at least protect the woman Wes loved. He put his hand on her arm and spoke gently to her again, trying desperately to breech the wall she had placed between herself and the rest of the world.

…..

Faith prowled the hospital room like a caged panther. She could tell nothing except that it had been a bloodbath and, based on some of the bite marks, vampires had been involved, but pausing at the body of the nurse in the bathroom, she felt a familiar tingle, a sense of wrongness that wouldn't go away. She could smell this wrongness, maybe track it even. Crouching slightly, all her senses on alert, she began to stalk her prey.

…..

_It had found the cancer ward. The patients' suffering had drawn it like blood in the water to a shark. Letting loose for once, it flitted from bed to bed swooping in to drink the intoxicating energies of these conveniently gathered meals. Thrilled by the anguish of those it consumed, the flavor was heightened by the terror of those who punched frantically at call buttons for a nurse already beyond helping them. _

_Swaying for a moment, its bony-thin faux-arms raised as if gathering the adoration of an imaginary reverent throng, the entity gloried at the extremes of emotions hitting it like waves. Oh, the freedom of the feast!_

"God, you're ugly!" It turned at the sound of the voice behind it.

_The slayer she-beast spoke the insult while she stood poised for battle, and it was thrilled to have the opportunity for revenge. Normally, it lived an existence of shadows, a half-life of fearful denial. But now, yes, filled with a power it rarely risked indulging in, it thirsted to squelch this representative of the murderers of its kind. It burned to drink deep of her, and cried out confidently, "Weeee shall feed from yooou!" _

"Then you better have antacid, cause I'm gonna kick you inside out," Faith smiled grimly and pounced.

_It easily dodged the kick and grabbed the foot, pushing hard with its mind against the barrier of the slayer protections. Surely, as strong as it was at the moment, it could hammer down the defenses reaching the heady center rich in ancient power._

Faith ignored the creature's hold and used it as leverage to swing her other leg into a full roundhouse kick that smacked the thing hard in the head. It let go, surprised at the pain it rarely felt other than through others, and fell back against the wall whimpering. Faith fell to the ground feeling like her head had been drilled.

She struggled to get up as the _thing_ separated into five parts, each amorphous greenish blob sliming its way into a different direction.

Pulling out a stake, she stabbed at the nearest one which squirmed squealing like a stuck pig. The other four shivered and then swarmed over her. She writhed frantically, trying to get them off; their touch chilled her to the bone. She felt the jellied flesh sinking inside her skin, absorbing her essence.

She felt brittle, dry, hollowed.

Sensing somehow that mere brute strength was not the whole answer and remembering Giles' lecture on how the slayers fought them in the past, she reached inside, pushing hard against the tendrils that groped deep inside her mind.

It too pushed back—hard, but she had been through too much, suffered too much, worked too hard to see the endless possibilities of life, to give up easily. She fought as hard mentally as she had ever fought a demon face to face with a stake. Inside, she could feel the other grow more tentative, withdraw from her, but she grabbed and strangled the presence she felt, pulled and dragged to crush the center. So centered on the fight within, she could not see the two blobs that slowly detached trying to inch away. The center was cold, so cold. It felt unspeakably alien, unbelievably evil. Despite a nauseous sense of pervasive contamination that caused her to shudder involuntarily, she dragged it to her in a crushing psychic hold. Tighter and tighter she smashed, crushing it down into a smaller and smaller ball until it was a tiny blackened void—and then she crushed it out of existence.

Lying trembling on the floor, Faith turned her head enough to see the five blobs shrinking out of existence as if absorbed by the floor. Giles was going to be pumped when he found out that his info had helped kill Icky. She let her head flop back, trying to regain enough strength to get up. Deciding to just lie there and enjoy breathing for the moment, she muttered, "Well, that was fun."

An old man with sparse grey hair wheeled an oxygen tank with tubing over his ears to his nose and, using an IV rack for support, leaned over her and wheezed hoarsely, "You okay, girl?"

Yeah, she was okay.

…..

It was past midnight. Gunn had brought the forensics team lead by Knox, who seemed to take personally this attack that had left his department boss incapacitated.

Fred had been transported to the Wolfram and Hart clinic for treatment. Lorne was staying by her side in case she came out of it and could tell them something.

Faith leaned against a wall watching Angel pace impatiently back and forth. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor, Dude."

Giles and Mary stood nearby, equally discouraged.

Angel stopped and shook his head, "I think he went out the window. It's hard to tell with all that blood in there, but that's my best guess."

"Then let's get out there looking," Faith stood straight, itching for some action.

Giles looked at Mary hesitantly, then said haltingly, "If h-he went…out that w-window, shouldn't his," he looked at Mary again apologetically, "body be down below."

Mary paled but said nothing.

Angel and Faith looked away, refusing to make eye contact with either watcher.

Giles pushed it, "Have you considered that he might not be alive?"

Angel said angrily, "There isn't much I can do for him if he's dead, so I'm not going there. I'm going to work on the premise that he's out there, maybe a captive of Winston, and needs help."

Mary still said nothing but looked like she desperately wanted to believe that Angel was right.

Angel stalked into the hospital room, followed by Faith whose face indicated solidarity with Angel even though she also said nothing. She just snapped her bubblegum grimly and waved goodbye.

Giles looked at Mary, his regret obvious as he reached out tentatively to Mary, but she turned away unable deal, for the moment, with his truth, however true it might be.

…..

Lorne sat next to Fred who was lying on a bed perfectly still, her eyes staring straight up unseeing. He was providing a running, and rather witty, commentary on the articles in a popular entertainment magazine, "You should see these pics! I know you worry a little about how thin you are, but these babes! What's their excuse! None of these sticks lived as slaves for five years in Pylea! Although I think this one," Lorne pointed out one pencil-thin Hollywood celebrity, "may have sold her soul to the Dread Underlord Qweedda for her fame. But other than that, these women probably spend more time in their bathrooms throwing up than they do eating. And they're supposed to be the models of perfection that millions of girls look up to. How these screw-ups get looked-up to, I'll never understand!" He leaned closer, "Now watching you eat is a spiritual experience. Not like these twigs."

He patted her shoulder gently, "Come on, Fred. We need you to tune in." He watched her expectantly and then, as she failed to respond, he sighed and started to read again. His pithy comments appeared to fall on deaf ears, but he'd worked tougher audiences before.

Lorne's cell phone rang and he opened it quickly, standing to move to the window, speaking softly, "Hey! About time someone remembered those who sit and wait! Where are you guys, now?...Tracking? In this weather? You're likely to get washed out to sea in this stuff!...How long have you been tiptoeing through the tulips?...Hey, better you than me, Angel. I melt in the rain." He listened for a moment, glanced at Fred for a second and then answered, "No, no change, cupcake. Any luck figuring out what happened to Wesley yet?" Fred blinked at Wesley's name. Lorne, looking out the window, missed the reaction. He sighed at what he heard, "Hey, how about that mine fuehrer-director you guys told me about. Ms. Efficiency able to help you any?" He listened again, "Well, it was an idea anyway. I woulda thought she kept her finger pretty close to the pulse, but I suppose if she'd been there, she'd be dead like the others."

Fred sat up suddenly, ignored Lorne as if he wasn't there, looked around and spying a phone on the table, she scooted over quietly to that side of the bed and picked it up the handle.

Lorne said rather sadly, "Keep me up to date, okay, crème cake? It's times like these when it's really hard being green…Yes, I promise, I'll stop calling you pastries if you call." Lorne hung up and sighed glancing over to the unexpectedly empty bed.

"Fred? Sweetie! You're up!" Lorne exclaimed happily, moving towards the bed.

She continued to ignore him and began pushing buttons. It was a long number and she listened for a while for an answer. When she spoke her voice was calm, too calm, almost matter of fact, "Willow? I need your help. How soon can you get here?"

In the background, Lorne slowly sat back down in his chair, his face dismayed at what he was hearing.

Fred eyed Lorne momentarily, her face impassive, and, covering the mouthpiece, she hissed to him, "Don't tell anyone!" Then she returned to her too calm conversation.

Fred didn't have to sing for Lorne to know this wasn't going to go well.

…..

The storm raged around them. Angel stood still in an alley dimly lit by a single, grate-covered light. He tilted his head obviously concentrating. Faith waited patiently, watching him work while water streamed down soaking them. A flash of lightening lit the area briefly showing in bright contrast a better view of the dismal, empty surroundings of the trash strewn alley. Faith looked around quickly in the light trying to catch sight of their quarry and then waited for her vision to return after the flash. "Angel? Any luck?" she asked looking up and blinking rapidly at the torrent of rain that appeared with unremittingly regularity out of the darkness to pelt them.

"No, I got a faint trace of him here, but it's gone now," Angel said with some frustration. He wiped his face free momentarily from the endless water flowing down it.

"You remember the last time we were in an alley when it was raining?" Faith's voice was full of some unnamed emotion.

_Briefly, Angel thought of walking through the rain in an alley with his newborn son. The baby had been 'born' in an alley much like this. But no, Faith hadn't been there then, but he knew what she meant. He remembered when he'd fought her, or, more accurately, she'd fought him, trying to get herself killed. It'd been a night similar to this one, the rain pouring down. She'd given up, but he'd refused to give up on her. He couldn't give up on her. It would be too much like saying you can't get redemption when you do bad things. _

_After all, few could have been worse than Angelus._

"Yeah, I remember," Angel looked at her.

"We've gotta find him." She slammed her fist into her hand in anger, "Damn! I knew I shouldn't have left him!"

"Faith, it's not your fault." Angel's phone rang and Angel fumbled it open in the rain, "Yeah? Hey, Lorne! How's Fr…She went where?" Angel's head dropped then rose again in disbelief, "Why? Okay, okay…Yeah, I'll come right away. We're not going to find him while it's raining anyway." He looked up eyeing the night speculatively, "It's going to be dawn soon. If he doesn't hole up soon, he'll stand out like a sore thumb. You get teams on the street looking for him starting from…" Angel gave Lorne his current location. "Talk to Tominski and have him coordinate the operation. Tell him to call if he has any questions, and tell them—make it real clear—we want him alive!" He looked at the dreary district wearily, "If they find him, fine. If they don't, we'll find him tonight."

Just overhead, out of sight in the stormy night, a figure crouched on the rooftop rocking back and forth unevenly, watching them in silence.

…..

Fred marched down the hallway of Ward 13 passing Wesley's hospital room without a glance. Knox saw her and ran out of the room to cry out in confusion, "Fred?"

She did not look back. Mary and Giles came out of the room and hurried to follow her, calling her name, too. She pressed on determined. A knot of people, staff on the ward who had not been on duty at the time of the massacre, hung around the director's office. They moved out of the way of the resolute woman's path. She slammed open Selene Holbright's door causing it to rattle alarmingly. The woman inside stood up in alarm, but relaxed as soon as she saw the visitor, her voice smooth with that false sincerity she did so well, "Ms. Burkle, I'm so sorry for this tragedy. Have they had any luck finding Mr. Wyndam-Pryce yet?"

Fred's eyes narrowed at the sight of the director, but she said nothing. She surveyed the room searching for something, and then, seeing it, she moved up to the desk to pick up a heavy paperweight, a round metallic globe the size of a softball. She bounced it in her hand a few times as if testing the weight of the world.

Ms. Holbright swallowed hard and then smiled winningly, "Y-you've had a hard time I heard. Perhaps you'd like a doctor to take a look at you, or…or…" Selene stopped talking as Fred moved around the desk, the physicist's face dangerous as she held the heavy paperweight tightly.

"Ms. Burkle! We did everything we could t-to save Mr. Wyndam-Pryce! Y-you know that!" Selene bumped into the wall behind her unexpectedly. She'd backpedaled without realizing it, but now she had nowhere left to go, and she swallowed convulsively while wildly looking in all directions, desperate to find a way to escape. She saw Giles and Mary in the doorway and appealed to them urgently, "Please Mr., um, G-Giles, is it, and-and Ms. Wyndam-Pryce. I-I think she's unhinged!"

Fred slammed the heavy metallic decoration on the desk, cracking the desk's formerly unblemished surface. Ms. Holbright flinched back.

"Unhinged?" Fred brought her bitter, angry face close to the other woman's frightened visage, "Maybe. But I'm guessin' I could unhinge you a little 'fore anybody could stop me. What do you think?"

"Ms. Burkle! Is there something I-I can do for you. Just let m-me know, and it's done!" The director's voice was high and fast, her normally implacable veneer of sophistication cracked under the threat of violence as Fred lifted the heavy object up.

"Wesley got attacked here and you don't know anything about it?" Fred said coldly; her tone filled with disbelief. "_I _can't make a phone call at Wolfram and Hart without five people listenin' in and _you_don't have a security camera at the front desk?"

"Ms. Burkle!" the panicked women cried out. "As I-I told Mr. Angel, the systems failed. They m-must have breached the security protocols."

Mary and Giles looked at each other and Mary gave a jerk of her head indicating Giles should stay back. He nodded his understanding and Mary spoke tentatively, cautiously moving forward, asking, "Fred? Are you all right? What happened to Wesley?"

Fred, obviously caught up in the throes of overwhelming emotion slammed the paperweight into the wall—embedding it only an inch from Ms. Holbright's head. Fred almost screamed, her eyes closed in agony, "He's a vampire!"

…..

_He hunched down, dressed only in the remains of a tattered bloody hospital gown. He was high on a roof but couldn't remember how he got there. The people below had gone finally. He'd thought maybe he should have known them, but they'd talked in distorted voices annoying him._

_He couldn't think; it hurthurthurt to think. Each crack of lightning caused him to scream because everything was too loud, too bright, too much. Inside, he was cold, empty,…bereft. _

_He grabbed his head and smacked it against the brickwork beside him. The pain helped him to focus. If only it would stop screaming at him. Stopstopstop! The hammers pounded relentlessly making him want to scream more. Even the violence of the storm couldn't drown them out. _

_He hit his head against the wall a few more times finding that he was doing it in rhythm with the thuds of the hammer. Blood trinkled down his face crossing his lips and he licked them hungrily, his fangs extending at the taste. The thunder cracked across the sky in a crazed zig zag pattern, and he rose shaking his fist at the storm raging both within and without, spouting abuse on both incoherently._

_To be continued…_

Thanks to my super-special reviewers! Thanks to Spuffyshipper for the nice words! I think if you have an idea that inspires you, write it! Something to keep in mind though, the more shows you involve in your fiction, the fewer people who will have seen them all. You will have to write carefully if you are going make it understandable to people who haven't seen all the shows. It can be done; it's just more complicated that writing for one or two shows. Good luck! Thank you gopie! It is quite a twist, isn't it? I did try to give some hints, but there are never enough hints for something like this. Thanks for still being supportive. Thanks to Rainbow's End! Yes, I do have the advantage of knowing the end. Mwahahahaha… Glad you like the twist. More to come. Icky is featured in a big way in this chapter. I'm glad I didn't have to make you wait on that one, at least. Have a great couple of weeks yourself! Thanks to irish6red! New reviewer! Yippee! Thanks for letting me know you like the story so far. Turning one, or more, of the gang is a very popular storyline. I look forward to presenting my version. Thanks, again. Thanks to Kerii! Another new reviewer! Hoody-hoo! I understand your confusion. I'm not a nurse either, but I checked with a nurse friend of mine to make sure I had it straight. People who suffer blood loss increase heart rate and pulse. This is because the body is attempting to make up for the loss of blood (and the accompanying loss of oxygen that the blood carries) by speeding the flow. Primarily, as I understand it, this is done to protect the brain. Thanks for watching for mistakes! It keeps me on my toes! Take care.


	40. Fallen Curtain

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Author's note: I didn't have as much time, or energy, to edit this chapter to the degree that I normally do. Any mistakes are mine, all mine. The buck stops her...ouff!_

Fred's cry that Wesley was a vampire shocked both Giles and Mary. Mary clutched the edge of the desk for support, "Wh-what? Fred? I…Are you sure?"

Fred looked around, her face aghast at her insensitivity for someone who'd loved Wesley too. She wailed, "Oh, Mary!" As she let go of the paperweight, it fell, thudded, and rolled heavily under the table, forgotten. Fred ran into Mary's open arms, both women sobbing. After a few moments, Mary led Fred out of the room. As she passed Giles, she looked meaningfully at Giles and jerked her head back at the relieved director. Giles nodded in understanding.

Waiting until the women left, the watcher closed the door firmly on the curious sightseers outside and spoke to the still pale woman, his tone deceptively mild, but unpleasant somehow, "Perhaps you should rethink your position and explain to me anything you might, accidentally of course, left out before about current events."

Ms. Holbright smiled weakly as she attempted to gather the somewhat dented composure she normally relied on.

Of course, she'd never seen Ripper before.

…..

After a good cry, the two women shared their respective news. Fred explained what little she knew about what happened. Mary, in turn, told her about the security guard and Faith's defeat of the Morlock.

"Fred?" Mary paused for a moment and then continued, "Are you sure it was Wesley? Remember, Winston is a vampire and they look alike for all practical purposes" While Mary spoke, she pulled out tissues for both of them.

Fred looked up hopefully for a moment and then grew despondent again, "I-I don't think so. I…I think I'd know if it was Winston."

Mary slumped back despondently, "I guess it was a forlorn hope. I still don't understand how…he could be turned so quickly."

Fred stood up, having regathered her determination, "I think I'm gonna go see what Knox found."

"Fred," Mary grabbed Fred's hand stopping her for a moment, "are you sure you're up to this." Fred nodded, but Mary pressed, "Those medical people," Mary paused and then forced herself to continue, "we're pretty sure they were mostly killed by vampires."

"You think Wesley did all that!" Fred waved her arm to encompass the hospital room. "I don't believe it. I was only gone for ten minutes!"

Mary said quietly, "No, it wasn't Wesley. Maybe he…died and awoke as a…"

Fred looked at Mary in disbelief, "We both know it doesn't work that way!"

"He was unconscious for a very long time," Mary suggested. "You know, modern medical technology isn't really something the old watcher diaries can comment on knowledgably."

"I don't believe it. He was attacked by that thing. Who knows who or what came with it." Fred shook her head denying the possibility, and continued firmly, "I'm going to find out what happened."

"Are you sure you're up to it, Fred? An hour ago, you were lying in a bed unable to speak." Mary asked, standing.

Fred looked at Mary, her resolve burning in her gaze, "I think I've spent enough time just sitting around. Maybe if I'd spent that time figuring out where Winston was and less time holding Wesley's hand, he'd still be in that room!" She shook off Mary's grasp and set off to the hospital room and what was left to her now—her work.

…..

Angel marched down the hallway with Faith following watchfully behind.

Giles and Mary stepped up to intercept him. After Mary told Angel what Fred had told her, everyone stood for a moment absorbing the bad news.

Then, Giles spoke up, "Angel, Fred accused the director of knowing more about this affair than she was saying. We were concerned that she would become violent and Mary managed to divert her attention. I…spoke with the director myself." Giles held up a DVD, "It turns out that Fred was right. This is the output of the security camera at the front counter."

Angel became lost in thought for a moment at this revelation and Giles had to repeat Angel's name three times to regain the vampire's attention. Giles explained its contents carefully and continued, "I think it's fair to guess that the missing security guards were involved in the attack, but I don't understand why they never came back out through the security door. I think it likely that Ms. Holbright knows more, but I am unable to convince her that it is in her best interest to cooperate, or, more correctly, she insists that she is now cooperating fully and has nothing more to contribute." He added reluctantly, "She may be telling the truth. Short of actual violence, I don't think I can find out anything more."

Faith smiled without humor, "I'm up for that." She moved forward, but Angel stopped her.

"Remember the whole 'trying to keep you out of prison' bit," Angel said mildly.

"Hey, I don't plan to go back. I'm just gonna rearrange a few…things. Anyway, she's probably got a great medical plan," Faith said quirking her head sideways at Angel and smiled slightly.

Angel shook his head 'no,' "She's my problem. She works for me, supposedly. Anyway, you got the last fight. It's my turn."

Faith gave a mock bow, waved him on expansively, saying with a smirk, "The psychologist said everything I needed to know about politeness, I learned in kindergarten. You know, takin' turns and dealin' with petulant boys and all that."

Angel frowned at her, annoyed, and marched off in just the right mood for adjusting the attitude of recalcitrant employees.

After he left, Fred called quietly, "Faith, can I speak to you for a moment?"

The slayer looked down the hallway as Angel forcefully entered the office. She sighed, why did he get all the perks. Resigned to exile on the playground with the other girls, she looked back at Fred and nodded, "Sure, what ya' want?"

…..

"Can I get you anything else, Miss?" The flight attendant asked politely.

"No! No, I'm fine!" Willow said a little nervous at the five star attention she'd received. She held up the mostly filled wine glass and a crabmeat hor dourve as if to convince her hostess that her needs had been met.

The attendant moved away and Willow sighed, relaxing a little out of the spotlight. She took a sip while she reflected on the coming task. Looking at the bag of supplies next to her, she just hoped it worked. Fred had sounded…wrong. Willow knew that kind of wrong and how dangerous it could be. Her eyes darkened with the memory—yes, she knew.

Outside the miles passed with inordinate speed as the Wolfram and Hart jet sped its way rapidly to Los Angeles.

…..

Angel slammed open the door to the director's office. She had her briefcase and keys in hand and looked dismayed to see the latest arrival to her office, "Don't any of you ever knock?"

"Going somewhere?" Angel said as he shut the door and leaned against it.

"Yes." Selene Holbright gathered her composure again. She'd had to do that a lot tonight. "I've given you everything I can to help. Since there's nothing more I can do tonight, I thought I'd go home." She said with asperity, "I do have an entire shift to recruit tomorrow, if you'll remember."

Angel looked up at the ceiling in mock thoughtfulness, "You know what I remember? A friend of mine telling me about Wolfram and Hart's obsession to know everything. He said they'd be 'watching and waiting and planning.'"

He'd lost the director entirely and she said in irritation, "Is this really necessary? It'll be dawn soon and I have a big day ahead!"

"Bigger than you think," Angel said smoothly. "See, my friend also said I needed to know the truth and stay on guard. So, here's me knowing the truth, and I think the truth is that people who were so anal that they had to know what ale Wesley drank when he was a teenager, must have watched his progress in hospital like it was the second coming. It wouldn't surprise me if they had popcorn and surround sound."

Ms. Holbright started to look uncomfortable but said nothing.

Angel sighed at her lack of response, "Let me make this clear. I think you had his room wired from top to bottom, camera, bugs, the works. I want the video and I want it now."

Ms. Holbright looked ready to vigorously defend herself, but Angel forestalled her, "Fred thinks…you know Fred, she was in here earlier…Fred thinks you know a hell of a lot more than you're saying. More than just this video business. She has good instincts, so I'm betting, even if she can't tell me exactly why, that she's right." Angel started moving slowly towards the desk. Ms. Holbright clutched her briefcase to her nervously.

"The funny thing about Wolfram and Hart is they don't discriminate. I'm thinking they bug everybody." Ms. Holbright looked startled. "I'm guessing that if I ask my security people…you know my security people have been very anxious to please since a whole group of them got sent to Hertross for betraying me and working for Winston?"

Ms. Holbright turned very pale.

Angel smiled, "Anyway, I'm guessing if I ask my security people, they could give me tapes and transcripts of every conversation you've had on every phone you've had access to by probably eight o'clock in the morning."

Ms. Holbright involuntarily looked at the phone on her desk and then back at Angel, frightened.

Angel followed her gaze and sounded mockingly regretful, "Tsk, tsk, haven't you ever heard of security?" He sat on the edge of her desk, sitting almost nonchalantly, but projecting a very real threat. Ms. Holbright swallowed hard and tried to speak but words failed to come out.

Angel looked at her hard, "I'm going to give you two choices, I can't be fairer than that. You can either resign gracefully before the transcripts hit my desk or you can join the other traitors in Hertross," he leaned on one hand closer to her, "supposing I let you live long enough to get there." His face morphed and his bright yellow eyes blinked at her as he licked his fangs. "Kind of a toss-up at the moment, which punishment I'd enjoy more."

Ms. Holbright blanched and managed to get out, "I-I-I'll resign!"

His face morphed back without comment, and he said calmly, "That of course is contingent on me getting the video—now."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She fumbled open her briefcase and grasped something inside to bring it out, when he added matter-of-factly, "If you're about to bring out anything other than the video, I should mention that I'd be quite happy if you gave me an excuse to take off your hand." Ms. Holbright froze in place.

"I've done it before, you know. Of course, for that one I had an axe. Nice and clean," he lifted up his hand and waggled his fingers considering. "This is likely to be messier." He smiled unpleasantly at her again, "I should start a collection. I could pin them up on my wall as a warning to employees that _Piss. Me. Off!_" Although he hadn't moved an inch, his tone indicated his barely restrained anger.

Ms. Holbright's hand seemed to move within the briefcase and grasp something different, and she brought out a computer disk. Putting it on the desk, she pushed it towards Angel, careful to keep her fingers, she hoped, out of his reach.

She jumped when he picked it up and moved quickly to the door. He said over his shoulder, "I don't think you need to work the expected two weeks notice. I'm sure you'll want a head start," she paled at the potential implications as he paused, smiling, his face looking quite predatory at that moment, then he continued, "to look for another job, I mean. Feel free to ask for a letter of reference. I'd love to write it. That way, I'll know exactly where you are." He admonished, "Don't forget the resignation."

She nodded, her composure shattered for the foreseeable future, if ex-Wolfram and Hart employees could be said to have a future.

Angel vaguely hoped the transcripts would hit his desk before the resignation as he called the security department head.

…..

Fred looked at the dust the forensics team had gathered, "So there's enough dust here for five or six vampires, right?"

"Yeah," Knox smiled broadly, "I think that, you know, accounts for the missing security team."

"Yes," Fred said thoughtfully, "but what exactly happened to them?"

"Let's find out," Angel spoke from the door. Behind him were Giles, Mary, and Gunn. He held up the computer disk and said, "A parting gift from the director."

Fred smiled bleakly, and they all moved to the conference system.

…..

After settling into various chairs, Gunn pushed 'play' on the computer interface with the monitor. The attack at the front counter showed first, which Fred frowned and peered at closely, and then the action moved to Wesley's hospital room. The pseudo-Faith's attacked the nurse, causing Faith to shift angrily. Then, the main event.

_Six ninja-like men dressed all in black pushed a gurney into Wesley's room. One shut the blinds hiding the room from the view of the hallway. While two shifted the gurney next to the bed, another said something quietly to the unconscious Wesley, to which they all laughed. Then, the leader yanked the IV roughly and Wesley bled freely from the wound created on the back of his hand by the jerked needle. The vampire laughed and then pulled all the attached monitoring wires while another pulled out the tubing inserted to collect Wesley's waste products. The monitors immediately emitted a steady tone and an alarm sounded which the men looked surprised to hear. At the automated announcement the leader swore; then he gave terse orders and the men set themselves to deal with the incoming hiccups to their plan. _

_With their attention centered on the monitor and then the door, they failed to see Wesley writhe at the removal of the tubing and his eyes open wide to look around in confusion. His eyes were glowing yellow pits of hell, his face warped into that of a vampire._

Mary made a small noise and covered her mouth with her hand. Giles laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Fred's lips tightened and she paled, but she said nothing.

_As the infiltration team began to dispatch the unarmed and completely surprised medical people, Wesley arose and threw the leader against the wall breaking the wooden chair that was in the way into pieces in the process. Standing next to the monitor, Wesley covered his ears, apparently finding the insistent of the alarm too much for his ears. He lashed out blindly causing the monitor to fall over, diminishing its noise level considerably. _

_The team, concentrating on their attack in front of them, overlooked the threat behind them. Seeing the wooden pieces around him, he picked some up and, still crouching, skewered the leader with an underhanded throw of one. The leader's mouth opened to a big 'O' under the mask, and he threw his arms up just before he dissolved into a shower of dust. Moving with surprising speed and agility, considering he had been lying unconscious moments before, Wesley caught the team equally by surprise, staking most of them before they had time to realize they were under attack. Only the last two had put up any fight at all and the cast on Wesley's arm proved an effective ad hoc weapon. They were dispatched with the same ruthless efficiency that they displayed against the medical team. Soon all that was left were the blood-drenched bodies in white coats. The image appeared static-like on the monitor as the dust that filled the air slowly settled to lightly cover everything with a sprinkling of vampiric dust. _

_During the battle, Wesley had become splattered in blood from the victims of his victims. He stood swaying for a moment, then clutched his ears with bloody hands and moaned in pain, "Too loud! Too loud!" Apparently, the blood on his hands bothered him, because he lowered them to eye them suspiciously as if they belonged to another. Holding his bloody, dripping hands out in front of him, he stumbled shakily to the bathroom and fumbled it open to enter. The door automatically closed slowly behind him and then Fred entered._

As they watched the video images before them, the stunned group sat unable to speak. Mary cried quietly while Giles reached out to hold her hand in sympathy. Fred, who had apparently run out of tears, watched the film clinically, with a scientific detachment belied by a strained reddish look around her eyes. Angel and Gunn looked at each other grimly, their faces reflecting a shared growing understanding of the horrible task lurking ahead of them. Soon, Mary and Giles would join them in this understanding. Faith already understood, but she looked at Fred speculatively. Fred would have other ideas.

Knox, watching from the background, also understood and looked suitably saddened—on the outside.

…..

_The storm had abated somewhat; he could feel the coming dawn burning in his bones. He was exhausted. The storm that raged inside had died down overwhelmed by his inner rage. Even the thunder failed to cause more than a wince of pain now. He looked down at the soggy, damaged cast and ripped it off, exposing his arm, solid and unbroken. He flexed it experimentally, making a fist and shaking it out. He must rest. Something inside whispered coaxingly that, later, he would rise to feed the hunger that gnawed deep within. _

_He had all the time in the world…now._

To be continued…

Author's Note: Thanks to Rainbow's End! Glad you liked the Fred scene. Fred's going to do more. Icky got whomped. Ahhh. I so wanted Faith to beat him up…so she did! Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Thanks for hanging in there. I promise it will be worth it in the end.


	41. Through the Looking Glass

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-one)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Music suggestions: Evanescence's Fallen Album:

Song _Taking Over Me_. Fred thinking about Wesley while she looks in the mirror.

Song: _Hello_. Wesley in box (Chinese water torture scene).

Angel's anger slowly burned hotter and hotter. Only the resignation resting on top of the transcripts kept him from hunting the woman down and tearing her apart piece by piece. That's why he'd asked for it, in fact. Angel had no qualms killing, under really dire circumstances, but he'd rather not go down the road of killing humans unless forced. She'd been working for Winston and he'd like to kill her, but he had everything he needed from the transcripts. He would leave her to Eve. He knew the standard contract for people at the director's level and she could run, but she could never hide. Wolfram and Hart could and would punish her far better than he could, at least not and keep his soul. It might not strictly be the way of a champion, but, as a friend of Wesley's, and in the interest of protecting the people he had left, it was the best he could do at the moment. He thought sourly, unless the powers-that-be started helping his family as much as Wolfram and Hart hurt, it would just have to be enough.

He continued to sift through the transcripts while the techies attempted to determine the source of the calls. Angel hoped to take out all his frustration on someone he could kill with impunity—Winston.

…..

Gunn was watching the hospital videos for the umpteenth time, hoping to glean _something_ more from its flickering images, when his phone rang and he flipped it open absently, his eyes still glued to the screen, "Yeah, what is it?" The voice on the other end spoke urgently and captured Gunn's full attention. He exclaimed in response, "She met a woman at the airport? Who is she?...Then describe her." The voice muttered some more and Gunn instantly knew, "Damn! Okay, keep following. Faith is with her? Okay, that's good. Call me when you know where they're going." He slammed down the phone and said again, "Damn!" Sighing, he pushed away from the desk and got up to tell Angel the bad news.

…..

Faith leaned against the wall silently watching the preparations.

Willow arranged her paraphernalia around herself in precise order, each item exactly placed to optimize her use. Once finished, she double-checked her arrangements and satisfied, she sat back and took a deep breath, "I'm ready."

Fred, who'd hovered fretfully in her apartment trying not to be a distraction to the witch, moved instantly forward to snatch up the pot of herbs and book she needed for her part of the spell. Willow caught her hand and said softly, "Are you sure, Fred?"

Fred looked at her in surprise, "I thought you understood?"

"I did! I do! I know exactly where you're coming from, really," Willow replied earnestly. "It's because I know that I have to ask. I've done…things, wrong things," she looked at Faith uneasily for a moment, but the woman remained impassive. I did them because I was in so much pain that I had to do them. All in the name of love. It's a terrible thing sometimes—love." Fred looked down for a moment, her pain overwhelming her briefly, and then looked up, her face blank again.

Willow pressed on, "Fred. You love him. Do you….do you remember what the curse does?"

Fred nodded, "It puts his soul back."

"It also curses him. He can never feel perfect happiness," Willow emphasized, "_with you_."

Fred looked away, blinking rapidly. Looking back, her eyes were red, but dry, "I know that. I just want him back. I can live with whatever is left to us. I'm not sure I can live without him."

Willow paused for a second, eyeing Fred carefully, "But what about Winston? He has his soul and yet he caused all this mess. What…what if Wesley is the same?" Willow asked regretfully.

Fred said firmly, "Wesley is not Winston. Winston is and always was a bully. Wesley is a good man. I believe in him."

Willow looked searchingly into the other woman's eyes. Fred looked back unflinchingly. Willow eyes softened, she nodded and dropped her eyes to her work. Fred took a deep shuddering breath and stood her with her items. The two women began.

…..

Outside, unknown to all three of them, a limousine pulled into the parking garage adjoining the apartment building.

…..

Willow, her eyes black, spoke the strange, flowing syllables of the ancient tongue. A wind swirled around the two women within the confines of the small room. The door broke open and Angel and Gunn burst in, Angel crying out, "No, stop!"

Willow, immersed in mystical forces, shouted out the final words and the orb briefly glowed dimly and then extinguished, the wind dying immediately.

Angel slumped and whispered, "No."

Fred looked angrily at him and then eagerly at the woman who held the broken pieces of Fred's heart in her hands.

Willow's eyes returned to normal and she sagged against the couch. Looking anxiously at Fred, the witch said breathlessly, "It d-didn't w-work!"

"What! You have to try again!" Fred demanded.

"No!" Angel demanded just as forcefully. He moved forward as if to interfere physically if necessary.

Fred got up standing between Angel and Willow, a tiny bulwark between her goal and his.

Faith tensed and stood. She wasn't gonna fight Angel, but she might muss his hair a little for Fred. She watched—and waited.

All three were stopped by Willow's words, "I can't do it again, Fred. It was as if there was nothing out there to grab. Like his soul wasn't there." Her eyes shadowed by the sorrow she felt for not being able to help another who loved and lost, she repeated, "I'm sorry. I can't do it."

Fred began to sob, great gulping sobs that dragged up from the depths of her soul, breaking free from the enormous chains of restraint she'd slapped around them. Angel said nothing; he simply gathered her close as she cried enough tears for both of them.

Faith slumped back against the wall despondently.

Behind Angel, Gunn stood helplessly meeting the eyes of the equally helpless witch. There was no magic to cure this storm.

…..

_The steady downpour of rain darkened the alley even more than the sun that had failed to rise high enough yet to touch this refuse of human existence. A figure in a tattered hospital gown was on his knees clutching his chest and rocking back and forth, his head down, moaning. His head lifted, showing the features of a vampire, and he growled with a predatory edge, "Willow!"_

…..

Angel sat on the easy chair caddy-corner to the couch where Fred sat, small and spent from her storm of emotion. He sat, willing to wait and comfort to the best of his ability. Gunn had taken Willow to Wolfram and Hart to rest at one of their guest quarters; while Faith had gone outside for some air, giving Angel and Fred some time alone to work things out.

"I had to try," Fred said quietly.

"I know," Angel acknowledged. He waited a moment, then continued, "Wes wouldn't have wanted it, Fred." At her look of disbelief, he explained, "Wes told me. He thought what his father did was unbelievably wrong."

Fred looked like she wanted to protest, but was quelled by Angel's steady gaze. He paused for a second to look at her and then added, "I think you know that, Fred. In your heart, you know."

Her lips tightened and then trembled. She nodded, "I-I guess I did. I just…I wanted him back." She started crying again, "Oh, Angel. It hurts so much!"

He took her hand, "I know. It's not fair. He deserved a chance to enjoy the happiness you both found. He loved you dearly." Angel squeezed her hand gently, "But Fred, he wouldn't have had that if you reensouled him. He…the curse…it makes you…suffer. That's its purpose, you know. It would have made him suffer for anything he did as a vampire. It would have hurt him…and you too, eventually."

Fred protested, "But he didn't kill the people in the hospital! Winston's people did!"

Angel looked out the window at the light that, although dimmed by the still pouring rain, would burn him to a crisp in seconds if he were out in it, "He's made his first kill by now, Fred. It's an…imperative for vampires. One of the first things they do is feed. They have to. They couldn't stop themselves if they wanted. By now, he's done things he will never be able to forgive himself for." Angel looked down into the long memories of his own deadly past, "It would be cruel, unforgivably cruel. Much as I want him back too, I can't do it to him."

Fred's pulled herself into a tight, miserable ball on the chair, her face sullen with anger, "I see. It's all right for you, but not Wesley? What makes you so special?"

"I deserve the curse, Fred," Angel said bleakly, startling her. "I was a wastrel in life and a psychopathic serial killer in death. It isn't a second chance. It's a curse. One that Wesley will never endure, if I have anything to say about it. He was a good man. I loved him too much to let this happen to him."

"Angel," Fred began crying softly again, "I miss him so!"

Angel took her hand again and tightened his grip in commiseration, "Me too, Fred." His eyes darkened with shared grief, "Me too."

…..

Willow spoke the words of the spell while Gunn watched. The candles flared and then died out completely. Willow sighed, and, as she began to stand, Gunn gave her a hand up.

"Thanks," Willow said gratefully. "All this spellcasting really takes it out of me."

Gunn had to ask, "I know you said this was a different spell, but why did you cast this spell? What was it for?"

"Willow smiled sadly, "This was to keep a promise I made to Wesley a couple of days ago."

"Oh," Gunn almost asked what promise, but decided he would respect the woman's reluctance to explain. If Wesley had wanted it, it must have needed doing and that was good enough for him.

…..

Across town, in a hotel, Roger Wyndam-Pryce pulled up a shirt sleeve to see the rash that had plagued him was gone. "Finally!" he muttered, giving it one last scratch before the need disappeared, and he could try again to concentrate on the disaster his solicitor was making of business back home.

…..

Angel stepped out into the darkened parking garage and started towards his limo.

"This is whack, Angel," Faith's voice echoed in the dark, open space.

Angel turned to see the slayer lounging on the hood of a jazzed up, brilliant red Ferrari. She looked like some kind of bad girl supermodel posing for the camera. Angel stood still, "I know, Faith."

"He broke me outta prison to save ya," Faith said matter-of-factly. "He broke me out, he said, because he knew I would want to save ya, not kill ya."

Angel said quietly, "He wouldn't want this, Faith."

"Well, I guess we're never gonna find out considering what happened upstairs," Faith said sardonically. She thought about it and then blurted out, "He changed his mind later, ya know, when we were looking for you."

Angel considered her words, "Orpheus."

"Yeah, he thought I wasn't in the game. That I couldn't kill ya if I had to." Faith looked away, then back to admit wryly, "He was right. When he accepted that I wasn't gonna kill you, he suggested the Orpheus. He didn't like it, but he accepted my decision."

"It worked," Angel gave a small smile.

"I'm just saying, maybe ya need to listen to Fred," Faith offered.

"I am…," Angel started angrily, then pulled himself up saying more calmly, "I am listening."

"I don't think so," Faith said taking a small jump off the car. She patted it lovingly, "This car is hot!" She ran her fingers along the long low lines of the vehicle and sighed, getting back to the topic, "Look, I know ya want the best for Wes, but I think, maybe, you're too close to it. You think, curse bad, Angel suffers, means Wes'll suffer. Fred thinks, soul back, Wes good, means Wes and her happy, just not too happy, if ya know what I mean."

"What do you think?" asked Angel, curiously.

"I think you both might be right. But mostly, I think Wes loves Fred more than anything in this whole wide world, and if we can find some way to save him, we should try. Cause that's what he'd do for any of us, any time, any place, any cost." She looked at Angel squarely, "It's what he's already done for some of us."

"If I could save him, I would, Faith," Angel punched a cement pillar creating a fist-sized crater and an incidental puff of dust. He said angrily, "You're right, Faith, this is whacked."

"Whack, Angel, not whacked." Faith half-smiled, "Keep up with the slang, or are you too old to do that?"

"Pretty hard when it changes as often as it does," Angel admitted. "Used to change about every ten years; now it changes about every ten minutes."

Faith moved up to him, "That's just you getting old, big guy." She looked at the limo, "Ready to go?"

Angel looked up, imagining the heartbroken Fred sitting upstairs alone, "Maybe you better stay with Fred. She's still a target and, who knows, she might come up with something else trying to save Wes."

"I might let her," Faith warned.

"Your call," Angel gave her a small smile as he got into the limo, "I trust you to do what's right for Wes."

Faith gaped for a second and then smiled and walked back into the apartment building.

…..

Fred had sat still on the couch after Angel left, not really thinking, emotionally drained after the failed spell and her latest bout of crying. Finally surfacing, she got up to make a cup of tea. She wasn't normally much of a tea drinker, but it somehow sounded comforting at the moment. Passing her hallway mirror, she stopped at the sight of her pale reflection. She turned to gaze at herself, in the dim light of the room, a whitish wraith wreathed in shadows. She thought, if she looked deep enough in the silvered surface, she could see him. She reached her hand out to touch the endearing, illusory image, but the memory of her last sight of him warped this reflection into the distorted ridges and fangs of the demon he'd become, and she flinched her hand back. She closed her eyes tightly, finding more tears in the bottomless well of sorrow, and opened them to find the blurred vision left her seeing all that Wesley saw in the mirror now—nothing at all.

_In an isolated alley lay, among other trash and containers, a medium-sized crate that at one time or other had been the abode of various homeless people. He lay tightly gathered in a fetal position, shivering periodically. Although the rain still pounded, rhythmically hitting the box with the cadence of hundreds of tiny hoofbeats, the thunder was completely gone and he found solace in the gentle noise that drowned out the hammer that tripped inside his head like Chinese water torture. He remembered vaguely that he was clastraphobic, but he couldn't remember why. It seemed silly now. The crate was a cool, dark haven against the scorching rays above. The enclosed space comforted him like a womb. Finally able to relax, despite the sun's rays striking the surface of the box just above his head and the noise of the rain, he dozed fitfully, dreaming of deep waters and ocean waves. As he slept, his face transformed back and forth from his normal face and into his vampire face over and over. Fangs extended, ridges formed on his forehead, eyes, half-open even in sleep, flashed yellow and then flickered blue and back again. Through it all, he slept the sleep of the dead._

…..

Georgie shuffled along the alley, using the familiar brick wall against his dirty, gnarled, rough hand as a support and guide. His clothes were ragged, dirty, and old, his body even worse. But he had a home. He'd claimed the crate as his own the minute Herman died. The poor slob had been a friend, as much as anyone could be who was married to the bottle, but Georgie considered it only fair that he inherit the prime real estate when Herman kicked it. As he approached, he could see in the depths a figure wearing white sleeping inside. Picking up a loose brick, almost falling over in the attempt, he stumbled closer, prepared to defend his home with his life. He'd had to do it before and he expected to do it again before he died, maybe when he died. Trying to be quiet, his shoes made scraping sounds as they failed to clear the asphalt surface properly. The noise awakened his opponent who sat up in the shadows of the box and peered out. Raising his brick, he crowed threatening, "Ge'out! Hear me? Go 'way! 'fore I belt ya one." He waved the brick attempting appear frightening, and instead appeared rather pathetic and wasted.

The inhabitant, shrunk back, which encouraged the attacker to greater shrieks and imprecations. Abruptly, the figure leaned forward, just to the edge of where the light of the dim day reached into the box. Georgie could see the blood-encrusted gown and the red-streaked face. His eyes boggled at the sight. A maniac! He musta found an escapee from some loony bin. Unable to get a clear view of the intruder's face, he still knew something was wrong…and the eyes, the eyes glowed unnaturally and then narrowed angrily. Living on the streets meant that Georgie met many predators, many different kinds of predators. Suddenly, he knew and, scared, dropped the brick. Backing away, stumbling, he held his hands up to mollify his 'guest,' "Hey buddy, you can have it. I-I want you to have it!" The face leaned forward glowering, the deformed ridges of his face visible, when it _growled_. Small wisps of smoke drifted off his face, like some dragon recently roused from sleep preparing to spout flame.

Startled, Georgie fell on his backside and frantically crabwalked backwards and then, scrabbling to roll over, got up, and ran even before he was totally up.

_Back at the box, the figure retreated to the recesses of the box's interior and wrapped into a tight ball again; his territory established without question._

…..

Angel waited impatiently for night to fall. Much as he loathed the coming task, he knew he must find Wesley fast. Before the watcher could gather his wits. Before he could become the kind of vampire Angel feared he would become. Before Wesley could prove the theory they both feared. Angel watched and waited as the sun slowly drifted across the sky, counting down the minutes before the hunt could begin again in earnest.

…..

Although Gunn knew she wouldn't appreciate it, he kept the best security man Tominski could offer following Fred. He'd failed Wes. He'd do his best not to fail Fred, even if she hated him for it.

…..

Willow shifted in her bed restlessly, exhausted by jet lag. Despite the luxury surrounding her, she slept in unhappy snatches. She dreamed of dead lovers and flayed murderers. It was not the first time.

Perhaps it would be the last.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: Thanks to those special folks who reviewed! Thanks to Rainbow's End! I liked the Angel-Director scene too, but I think I liked writing the line "Of course, she'd never met Ripper before." better. Course the show's called Angel so he got to drag out the best info from her. If you're not sure how it's gonna end, I'm doing my job. Hmmm…Wes…nasty things (author jerks thoughts back to reality). No promises, but keep reading. Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Yes, poor, poor people. Thanks to braven! There will be a little bit happy, I promise. Good luck on your grad school. Suffering appears to be a part of the educational process, that, or teachers are naturally sadistic (or maybe both). Thanks to gopie! Glad you're still enjoying the story. More suspense, fun, and twists to come.


	42. Drowning, not Waving

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-two)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Music suggestion, Evanescence's album Fallen:_

_Song: Imaginary. When Wesley has dream/nightmare in box. _

_Song: Whisper. Wes in torrent._

Twilight came finally and Angel picked up his sword for the hunt. Checking the balance absently, he strode out grimly anticipating his task. Tominski's team failed to find any trace of Wesley. Angel would start where he'd last thought he'd caught Wesley's scent. As he passed Harmony's desk, she shrunk down, trying to remain unnoticed. As Angel was completely occupied and could care less about the female vampire, she was successful.

After the elevator departed with her boss, she took a deep unnecessary breath of relief and reflected on his appearance. He'd reminded her too much of Buffy during the days when Harmony had been the slayer's arch nemesis. Harmony smiled, thank God those dizzying heydays were over. She was part of the ordinary humdrum day-to-day world of corporate life. Now all she had to worry about was paperwork and not drinking people—or at least the wrong people. Humming cheerfully, she daydreamed of meeting and dating hot Wesley look-alikes and drinking vintage blood types. Even vampires could live the American dream.

…..

Standing on the roof above the alley where Angel had stood with Faith the previous night, the vampire scented the air carefully, sorting the various smells. Moving slowly, he found the particular one he sought and began to follow the faint traces diminished but not eliminated by the rain.

…..

_He floated, passing from one wave to another. His body sometimes riding the crest, sometimes deep in the trough. But always above it all somehow. He could hear the pounding of the waves in the background, and they grew until they overwhelmed him with each blow. Strange voices whispered their disapproval of his peace. The ocean receded into a mist and he found himself lying on a rough sandy shore. Angel stood glowering over him. _

_Dragging him from his relative sanctuary, the silent vampire roughly manhandled him into a coffin, strangely white, and slammed the lid shut. Oddly in time with the pounding of the surf, Angel hammered on the lid sealing the box closed, despite the frantic struggles of the victim interred. _

_Unable to escape, he listened fearfully from the inside, while outside Angel continued to pound even as the unwilling inhabitant felt the coffin begin to sink, faster and faster beneath the waves. Shrinking smaller and smaller, the confines of the coffin pressed against him tighter and tighter until he screamed at the rough wood pressing hard against him. His fingernails splintered against the hard surface of the lid uselessly and he screamed again as the hammer continued inexorably thud thud, thud thud…_

Waking, he scrambled frantically out of the box, uncaring of imminent immolation. Fortunately, night had fallen. He could still hear the regular pounding of the hammer causing his entire body to vibrate and stabbing directly between his eyes. There was a lull in the storm, at least for the moment and in the deafening silence, the pounding had grown loud beyond belief. But another sound competed and he followed it seeking blessed relief. Holding his hands against his ears, he staggered to the end of the alley where he saw the source.

A girl, young, thin, too short on skirt and too long on make-up, swayed up the street confidently. Her trim figure was outlined intermittently by the sporadically working streetlights. She approached, aware of many of the dangers of the streets but unaware of this one.

His face changed without his awareness, the transformation facilitating his senses. Pain still radiated throughout his body, but it diminished in her presence. Her scent was intoxicating. Like a fine wine, she shimmered as she walked along, her value increased by the anticipation of her approaching fear. Wesley crouched—still, silent, waiting—and then he sprang. Her scream echoed through the canyons of dark, towering buildings around her, the buildings' dark windows like a multitude of empty eye sockets gawping at her distress. They looked on, unseeing, uncaring, and unheeding of her cries.

…..

In the far distance, Angel heard the scream and broke into a run.

…..

His eyes, although yellow, were glazed and his drawling voice was dreamy sounding, as if he weren't really there. "We," Wesley flinched at the pain that spiked through his body, "We need you."

The girl struggled futilely as he dragged her to a manhole, flinging the cover away easily with one hand to clang echoing down the street. He clutched his ears at the painfully loud sound and, freed, she ran screaming. His eyes flashed hot gold and he leapt to catch her easily, covered her mouth, and dragged her down the ladder and into the storm drain complex.

…..

Angel stood on a rooftop. The screams had stopped and he had futilely sought their source. All his senses screamed for something, anything to help in his search. He saw nothing.

…..

Under the ridiculous make-up, she was young, very young, much younger than she'd looked on the street. Her long dark hair spread appealingly over his arms. She looked a little like Fred and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she was, but then the horrific moment was gone and the fantasy dissolved into reality, and she was, once again, a stranger. Twin trickles of blood lazily sloped down the pale, soft skin of her exposed neck. Her long, dark lashes were made longer by the dim light, and she looked like she was sleeping, caught, not in his arms, but in that fleeting moment between childlike abandon and womanhood.

He sat, cradling her gently, exhausted by the overwhelming sights, sounds, and smells that continued to assault him but soothed by the loud regular thumps of her heartbeat, her shallow breathes, and her blood rushing just beneath the surface, so that he imagined he could see it throbbing through her body. He was content to sit back quietly. The running of the rain water nearby muffled the maddening senses crowding his fragmented sanity allowing him to relax. The soft, warm bundle in his arms provided a source of additional comfort. In the distance he could hear someone approach.

…..

Angel's eyes searched the desolate streets finally seeing the manhole cover lying askew against a curb. Nearby, an exposed manhole yawed open invitingly. Steeling himself, Angel dropped lightly off the edge of the building and ran to drop again, this time into the dark opening. The street remained quiet, oblivious to whatever might transpire below.

…..

Angel caught Wesley's scent immediately. His hunger rose briefly at the accompanying smell of blood, not Wesley's, but he tamped it down ruthlessly. Checking both directions of the tunnel, he ran along the damp passage in the direction the ephemeris trail led. Ahead was a major juncture with several tunnels at various points heading off in several directions.

He slowed, approaching more quietly, when a hauntingly familiar voice spoke calmly out of the dark, "He's coming. Yes, yes, I know; we have to leave." There was a gasp of pain and then Wesley's disembodied voice continued sharply, "Stop that!"

Angel spoke involuntarily, "Wesley? Are you alright?"

"All right? All right! Of course I'm not alright, you ponce!" Wesley's irritation echoed with his words bouncing around the passages loudly. Then, Wesley gasped in pain again.

Angel grimaced at the words he'd not meant to say. He was still unsure of which tunnel Wesley was in and focused on listening carefully, hardening his heart to the demon that sounded so like his friend.

Hearing more noise, like soft panting, Angel forced himself to move forward trying to hone in on Wesley's location while the ex-watcher spoke again more quietly, "Did you do this? I seem to recall…a pillow…and you were _so_ angry. Why were you angry?" Wesley's voice seemed to end on a part pleading, partly pathetic note.

Angel reminded himself, _This is not Wesley!_ and answered more sharply than he intended, "No, I-I didn't do this." Trying to sound persuasive and keep his target talking, he continued, "I want you to come back with me, Wesley. We…we can help you."

"No." Wesley's voice was soft, but firm, "No, you can't."

Then Angel heard the confused echoing sound of footsteps running, the clatter ricocheting off the walls of the tunnels and receding in the distance.

Pinpointing the direction of the noise, Angel ran up to the tunnel entrance he thought the footsteps were coming from and saw a girl lying deathly still just inside the opening. The smell of blood was strong and, for the first time in his existence, he felt like gagging from it. In despair, he started to move past her when he realized—she was alive.

Dropping to her side, he gave up the chase for the moment for the more pressing task of trying to save a life.

…..

Angel stood by as the paramedics loaded the unconscious girl into the Wolfram and Hart ambulance, "Gunn, can you let me know how she's doing?"

"Got it," Gunn assented. He looked around and asked, "Any luck?"

Angel nodded, "I've got a trail."

Gunn looked disgusted, "God! I hate this gig!"

Angel moved to drop through the manhole again and agreed tersely, "You've got that right."

…..

He had run without purpose, moving more because he could than because he had direction. Finally, he accidentally moved from the storm drain system into the sewers. He eyed the crude, sluggish flow streaming past grimly for a moment; then, gritting his teeth, Wesley slipped into the effluent. _That should stop him!_ he thought.

…..

Angel looked in dismay at the flowing waste passing by like a horrendous smelling river. He muttered in frustration, "This is as bad as trying to find Connor!" Sighing in resignation, he dropped his coat onto the floor further up the tunnel in the forlorn hope that he could salvage something from the mess and jumped into the sludge distastefully, trying to keep his arms and head out of the flow.

"Damn!"

…..

_After the disgust of the sewers, Wesley found the relatively fresh water from the rain refreshing. Standing under a torrent of water guided by an fortunate combination of a quirk of architecture and a broken rooftop gutter, he threw his head back and raised his arms turning to receive the full force of the shower. Under the calming influence of the roaring waterfall, he grinned, laughing wildly, almost sane for the moment. Suddenly, he had a plan._

…..

Faith leaned against the window of Fred's apartment looking out moodily at the stormy night. Fred had been quiet, too quiet, since Faith had returned.

Fred's softly accented southern drawl surprised Faith more than it probably should have. Faith should be paying more attention. Fred's words finally penetrated the slayer's reverie, "I was thinkin' of goin' to bed early. You okay on the couch?"

Faith glanced back at the sofa made up neatly with sheets, blanket, and pillow. She nodded, "Five by five."

What does that mean exactly," Fred asked curiously.

"It's a radio thing, means I got the message loud and clear." She clarified, "Means I'm fine." Faith smiled reminiscently, "Learned it from my uncle. He was a radio guy in the army."

"It sounds like you liked him," Fred gave a small, brief smile back.

"Yeah, only family I ever had that gave a damn." She looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with Fred, "Got killed in Desert Storm," her mouth twisted wryly, "squished by a jeep, of all things."

Fred blinked rapidly, her emotions running too close to the surface for this kind of conversation, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, it was a long time ago." Faith looked at Fred, "You go to bed. I'll keep watch."

Fred nodded and moved to the bedroom.

Faith turned back to the window, "Go'night."

Fred looked at the woman's back thoughtfully, a little sadly at first and, then, with almost calculating consideration, "Right, goodnight."

The physicist disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, but, unknown to the slayer in the other room, Fred also, after waiting an appropriate amount of time, disappeared down the fire escape. She had somewhere to go, without the well-intentioned interference of her friends.

…..

_As he walked along, he hummed an old tune, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head." He found it easier to think when he covered the cacophony constantly hammering away inside with white noise. Along the way he drew strange looks at his odd appearance, as well as crinkled noses from the smell, as he walked leisurely by. He ignored them all. Finally, he got there. _

_He turned the knob forcefully feeling it give way under his new-found strength. Shoving it open, he saw the familiar, comforting sight of his apartment, although the tape outline of the body on his floor and the boarded over window sent a discordant note to the surroundings. He started to giggle, first his shoulders and then his whole body shaking with the inner joke, "I-I invite me in!" He stepped inside with a 'Simon says' giant step and then his giggles turned into gales of laughter as he pushed the door shut behind him. He twirled manaically as he covered his face with his hands, shoulders still shaking. Dropping to his knees, the laughter turned into tears, great gulping sobs that racked his body causing him to fall over futilely seeking purchase from the hard wooden floor. Gradually, the sobs slowed, turning into occasional hiccups, and, finally, he pushed himself up wiping the tears from his face like a child. _

_His face dull after the excess of emotion, he walked through the apartment, ripping off the wet, smelly, bloody hospital gown and letting it drop to the ground forgotten. Naked, he absently flicked on his stereo as he passed, stopping long enough to change the equipment from the Cat Stevens CD to a FM heavy metal rock station, and then moving through his bedroom to the bathroom beyond. Almost immediately, the sound of his shower mixed with the beat music blaring from his sound system._

Just outside, a dark figure, watching from the shadows, called on his cell phone, "Sire? He's in his apartment…No, he's alone….Yes, Sire, I'll wait." He hung up and shifted back out of sight, content to await his master's bidding—and arrival.

…..

Fred refused to think over her intention. She couldn't give up. She drove the route she'd taken before in times of trouble. She had to see him and thought she knew where he'd go—eventually.

…..

Faith stood in the doorway and looked in dismay at Fred's empty bedroom. "Damn, girl. Don't you ever do what you're told!" She marched out, grabbing her coat as she slammed out of the empty apartment.

…..

Angel stood over his coat, frustrated in his attempts to find Wesley. With two fingers, he gingerly picked out his cell phone from the inner pocket. Flipping it open, he shook his free hand in vain, trying to get it dry enough to push buttons. Giving up, he just got on with it, his fingers leaving dark, wet smudges on the surface, "Gunn? How's it going? Is she still alive?"

Gunn stood looking at the young lady in question stuffing her face with an enormous amount of food while reclining comfortably in a hospital bed, "Yeah, she's okay. They were worried about blood loss, but she didn't actually lose that much. I think she just fainted, you know, the whole getting' grabbed thing had to be pretty scary." He looked at her and grinned, "Anyway, she's fine. You should see her eat. Only other person I ever met who ate like this was Fred. What is it with tiny women? They all must have a portal or something in their stomachs!"

Angel distracted by the phone which kept threatening to slip out of his hands, said absently, "Oh, yeah, good. You say she didn't have much blood loss?"

Gunn nodded, still amazed at the girl's capacity, "Not enough for them to do anything, like a transfusion or plasma or anything. They gave her an I.V., but I think that was mostly for shock. She's been cussin' them out since she woke up. I think they fed her to shut her up." Gunn said firmly, "She's gonna be fine."

"Alright, I'm not having any luck here, so I'm going to come in. See if you can get anything out of her about what happened—like, for example, why she's still alive."

"Okay, I'll ask," Gunn said doubtfully, "but I…Oh, Angel, I've got another call. Can I call you back."

"No problem. Just call if you get anything new," Angel shut the phone and nodded his head in disbelief. What was Wesley up to? Why didn't he eat the girl? He sighed, time to go. Now, if he could just figure out how to pick up his jacket without actually touching it.

While he mulled over this conundrum, his phone rang again. He cursed as he struggled to open the disgustingly slippery device, "Yeah?"

"Hey, Angel!" Gunn's voice sound breathless, as though he was running as he spoke, "I had a security guy keeping tabs on Fred. He says she just went to Wesley's place."

Angel spun and was running before Gunn finished, his precious coat forgotten and left to its fate.

_To be continued…_

Next chapter – Fred and Wes meet (I think you guys are going to like it!). Next update planned in two weeks unless I get a lot farther in my writing than I think, in which case maybe one week (I suppose I might get inspired). I think it is unlikely though. I'm really tired. Take care and Happy Thanksgiving!

Author's note: Thanks to Spuffyshipper for reviewing! Yes, poor, poor people! Thanks to Rainbow's End! Glad the music suggestions worked for you so well. Sorry to leave you hanging like that. School is just…hard. Nice to hear you're really enjoying the storyline. Yes, I agree, Wes would be a very dangerous vampire. Thanks to gopie! I really try to track the continuity stuff. I appreciate you noticing. I refuse to comment on exactly what is going on but good catches. Very perceptive!


	43. The Inner Man

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-three)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Music suggestion: Evanescence's album Fallen, song "My Last Breathe." Wes with Fred on floor._

Wesley stepped out of his bedroom, hair spiking up in damp disorder from his shower. He wore blue jeans and a black turtleneck shirt. Ignoring the music still pumping from the radio, he moved up to his equipment chest and began to remove weapons. He pulled out his spare arm device and started to attach it to his arm, testing the straps and trigger as he went.

The radio abruptly grew quieter as it was turned down to a background buzz and a familiar voice spoke behind him, "The turtleneck is probably a mistake. Makes it easier for me to pretend to be you, you know."

Without turning to look at Winston, Wesley paused for a second his head jerking slightly to the side wincing at a twinge of pain; then he continued tightening a strap before bothering to reply calmly, "Yes, I suppose so." Tucking the last strap in place, he bent over the small table and began writing a note.

Expecting to be the center of Wesley's universe and growing irritated at the lack of attention, Winston moved to sit on the boarded-up window ledge and said peevishly, "How long are you planning to ignore me?" He was about to say more when he was struck dumbfounded, astounded at what he'd suddenly realized about Wesley.

Without responding to Winston's words, Wesley finished writing, moved to flick the radio station on at full volume again, much to Winston's annoyance, and then started secreting weapons in various locations on his body. The radio blared with a particularly obnoxious song, and Winston said angrily, "Can't we at least turn that off."

Wesley had shoved the last gun in its holster and was contemplating whether there was room for one more dagger strapped to a leg when, finally, he turned to gaze at Winston, "I like it. Keeps away the ghosts."

Winston suddenly gave up being angry and looked his brother up and down in amusement, "My, my, Wesley, what _have_ you done to yourself?"

Reaching down to his arm device to make a minute adjustment, Wesley said coldly, "I haven't done anything. I believe you did this to me."

Winston laughed shortly, "Believe me, if I'd done it, I'd have done it right."

Wesley quirked up an eyebrow in mild inquiry, "Exactly what has been done here that isn't your cock-up, Winston?" With that, Wesley coolly raised his arm device to aim at his brother.

…..

Outside the apartment door, Fred had stood uncertainly for some moments, building up her courage for whatever lay ahead. She knew Wesley was in there; she could hear the music pounding through the door. She readjusted the three stakes and other vampire fighting accouterments secreted around her body nervously, took a deep breath, and turned the knob.

…..

From the outside, the heavy beat of music thumped audibly as Angel's car sped up the wet street squealing to a halt at the apartment complex. Across the street, through the drizzling rain, several minions saw, looked at each other, and began to move to intercept.

…..

Fred stepped in the door surprised to see both Wesley and Winston standing there. She wasn't sure how she knew which one was which, but she knew. Wesley shot a stake from his upraised arm at Winston, but the noise of Fred's unexpected arrival threw off his aim. He looked at Fred, his mouth open in surprise.

Winston, threw himself to the side at the unanticipated attack and turned it into a roll to end up, in a rather gymnastic move, over by the door to stand, grinning, in front of Fred, "My brother's being difficult. Perhaps you could help me bring him around." Winston grabbed her, intending to drag her out of the room, but Wesley grabbed him from behind, and with more strength than he'd known he'd had, he flung the surprised Winston over his head and against the far wall, next to the boarded-up window.

Wesley and Fred stood looking at each other for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears and his were unreadable, distant. She tentatively reached out a hand and he jerked back violently. Hearing a noise behind him, he dragged his eyes away from her and moved to grab up Winston, who was slowly getting up.

Fred heard a commotion going on behind her, outside the apartment. Glancing out, she was surprised to see Angel fighting several vampires. They weren't particularly good in a fight, but made up for lack of finesse in numbers. Angel was using the narrowness of the hallway as a chokepoint, forcing them to attack him with no more than two or three at a time, and, at that, they interfered with each other's effectiveness. One charged and Angel flipped it over his shoulder.

The attacker tumbled to the front of the open door where Fred stood looking down at him in astonishment. Sensing easier prey, he growled, springing at her, only to bounce violently off the open doorway as if he'd hit a force field. The ricochet's force slammed him backwards against the door across the hallway, his head hitting with a loud _thwack_. He slid to the floor, stunned.

The door at his back opened, and a plump woman in her forties peered out, "Yes…wha…" She gawped at the apparent body on the floor at her feet while gravity, and the body, interfered with her subsequent frantic efforts to shove the door shut, pushing bodies, murderers, rapists, and what-not, out of her life. Fred stepped up quickly causing the woman to squeal breathlessly, and Fred staked the impediment. Once freed from restraint, the door slammed shut almost as if it were working independently to aid in the defense of its home. Fred could hear dimly, behind the closed door, the woman screech, "Arnold! Get up! There's a gang fight in the hallway!"

Fred, amazed at the never-ending ability of people to delude themselves, brushed off this distraction. She glanced at Angel and decided there was nothing more she could do for him in the melee but stay out of the way, so she moved back into the apartment to try to help Wesley instead.

Unwilling or unable to question the wisdom of this decision; she couldn't see the possible self-delusion of her own actions.

…..

Gunn's truck skidded to a halt at the front of the apartment building, the rain causing the truck to slide somewhat askew. He jumped out, axe in hand, and ran for the door. He could hear the sounds of a fight strangely accompanied by a heavy beat.

Through the steady rain, a Wolfram and Hart security man called Webster watched dispassionately from across the street as Gunn disappeared in the apartment complex. Webster had been told to follow Fred. No one told him to get involved and, considering the hits security had taken lately, he wasn't gonna do anything he wasn't told to do. He was very loyal. Of course, to whom and to what he was loyal to was something only he knew.

…..

With a crash, the regular beat of the music changed, becoming erratic and interspersed with a cacophony of high pitched squeals.

Fred entered the room to see Winston getting up from the remains of a broken coffee table. Wesley stood by the collapsed stereo cabinet, holding his ears in agony. He shook his head, hands pressed against his ears, as if he were trying to dislodge something attached. Each squawk and squeal seemed to be like a dagger plunging into his head and he squirmed in agony in response.

Winston scooped up a splintered piece of the broken table to throw it overhand at Wesley, but Fred pushed his arm at the last second and the stake went wide skewering his brother in the arm rather than chest and pinning him to the wall.

Fred started towards Wesley to help free him when Winston, grinning once again, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the bedroom. She screamed at the pain and brought up her stake to stab at him. He batted it away and it clattered across the wooden floor. On the other side of the room, Wesley clutched his head gasping in agony, his arm still nailed in place.

Dragging her in the bedroom, Winston flung her onto the bed and commented lightly, "You know, I was thinking that I'd turn you for Wesley, but now I can't decide." He looked mockingly thoughtful, "I guess we'll have to play it by ear." Leering evilly, his face a malevolent parody of Wesley's, he sneered, "First, we need to get some alone time."

He looked around the room and, seeing the window, he picked up a wooden chair to throw it through the glass. Wind blew raindrops in through the shattered glass. Winston grimaced, "I'm really getting tired of these window exits. Way too Hollywood for my taste." He reached for Fred, but shrunk back raising his arms protectively at the spray of holy water splashing him from her water pistol.

"Arrrgh!" Winston cried in rage and pain. Angrily, he darted forward and snatched the plastic gun painfully from her grasp and threw it against the far wall. It broke leaving a splatter of water dripping down the surface. He pushed his face right up to hers and screamed, "I'm getting really sick of those stupid toys!"

Fred stuck a cross on his face and he jerked back screaming in pain again. Scrubbing at his face as if he could wipe off the burns, Winston twisted in pain for a few seconds. Then he threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining and hands fisted as he shrieked in frustration, "Don't you ever give up!"

Fred pulled out another stake and scrambled up to her knees, waiting for the next attack. She was breathing hard, but she managed, despite her fear, to say firmly, "Nope."

Winston finally regained control of himself and his burned hands fisted and released over and over while his scorched face worked furiously to get his words out, his voice tight with anger, "You'll pay for that. I promise." He moved forward like a cat with a cornered mouse, his voice smoothing dangerously, "You'll pay and pay and pay…"

Fred waited until he lunged forward, jabbing the stake into his body but missing his heart. He grunted in pain, but ignored it enough to seize her arms and haul her off the bed, yanking so hard that she felt like her arms were coming out of their sockets. She butted her head against his chest futilely, but he wrenched hard and she screamed in agony at the pain.

A bloody arm reached around Winston's neck and pulled him back ferociously. Winston convulsed in the grip, letting Fred go as his hands fluttered uselessly trying to grasp something and regain control. Fred dropped to the ground and hugged her beleaguered arms protectively, fighting back tears.

Winston slammed Wesley back against the door hard causing it to slam shut with a rattle. Wesley, stunned for a millisecond, loosened his grasp enough for Winston to manage to turn, freeing himself, and then backpedaling from Wesley's rage. Winston said quickly, trying to mollify his brother, "Wesley? Look, I wanted her for you, really. I…I…look, stop! We can work this out!"

Wesley, in full game face, his eyes glittering, ignored him. There was no more room for words in his crazed rage. He attacked in a frenzy, Winston bowled over as Wesley battered him in a flurry of fists, screaming curses with each _whack_. Winston gave up fighting back and huddled into a ball, arms trying to block the fast and furious blows. Although violent, the blows were so rage-driven they mostly hit ineffectively. It was the fury of the attack rather than the effect of the blows that kept Winston down.

Fred scuttled back to the wall and watched in shock at the furious storm of violence. It was true, he was gone. Involuntarily, she whimpered.

Wesley stopped in mid-blow at the sound and looked up. For a moment, there was no recognition, no sign he had any clue who she was; then, his face flickered transforming back and forth until it finally settled into his familiar features once again.

He looked lost and forlorn and spoke hesitantly, "Fred?"

Fred could cry. How could he look so like Wesley and, yet, be a vampire?

Taking advantage of the distraction, Winston kicked Wesley off and jumped up, furious in his own right. Nothing had gone as he intended. However, the kick slammed Wesley into the wall bringing his attention back to Winston—the object of his fury.

Wesley's face immediately morphed back into the demon visage and the inner fire of his eyes did not bode well for Winston if the fight should continue. Wesley struggled to rise to his feet again, his gaze focused hungrily on his prey. Winston, flinched back, and then, as if angry at the slightest sign of fear, he grabbed Fred's arm, despite her frantic struggles, dragging her up to the window. Her already abused arms screamed in protest, but she ignored them to grab at the wet frame.

Wesley hammered into her from behind and dragged her free, and they both fell and rolled together on the floor as Winston escaped, empty-handed but free.

They rolled to a stop with Wesley laying on top of her, his yellow eyes burning deep within her with the molten yellow flames of an inner hell, his face hideously distorted by his vampiric features. Panting in fear at the predatory gleam in his eyes, she surreptitiously worked her last stake free and brought it up into position.

…..

Gunn's attack from behind had completely demoralized the pathetic vampires trapped between the two of them. Angel staked another one and then shoved three to tumble down at Gunn's feet. From the apartment, they could hear Fred's scream and Gunn yelled, "I've got them. Go help her!" Angel nodded and ran as fast as he could to the rescue. He could only pray he was in time.

…..

Like an animal, the thing with Wesley's face sniffed at her neck sending a strange mixture of fear, sadness, and, oddly, excitement through her system. His face brushed against her skin and she wondered at the warmth emanating from him—until she realized, with nausea, its probable source. He kept his head down, smelling her; his slight breaths stirring the loose hairs at the back of her neck and sending tiny electrified shivers down her body. His warm lips touched her neck, and she shut her eyes tight, bringing up the stake as she felt the tiny tips of the hard fangs at her throat. But they retreated, and, instead, he kissed the spot gently. She opened her eyes wide in surprise as he lifted his head—his face endearingly, heartbreakingly normal.

He spoke, his voice sad, "I loved you more than life itself." He looked down to see the point of the stake pressed against his chest over his heart and looked back at her, "It's all right, Fred. Go ahead and do it."

His brilliant, crystal-blue eyes seemed bottomless with pain and something else indefinable that echoed deep within her soul. She could not believe this was not truly Wesley, and the stake slipped out of her nerveless fingers to clatter on the floor beside them. Wesley reacted to the noise as if she had stabbed him. He grimaced gasping in pain, lowering his head to her neck again. She could feel his features shift unnaturally against her neck as his face morphed once more into that of the demon.

The door crashed open to swing wildly on broken hinges and then fall, almost lazily, with a splintering shudder to the floor. Angel stood outlined in the light of the room behind him, casting a long, ominous shadow into the room and over the two on the floor.

Behind him could be heard the dim sounds of Gunn's battle cry as he finished off the last remaining victims of his ambush.

Angel quickly summed up the situation and crying out, "Fred!" he charged in to the rescue like an avenging angel but slipped on one of the rolling bits from the door on the wet wooden floor. Wesley used the extra time, afforded by his former friend's momentary slip, to leap up and sidestep the vampire stumbling forward. Angel quickly turned, ready to attack again when he stopped suddenly. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw.

Wesley took advantage of the momentary hesitation to leap through the already smashed window and escape into the dark.

Angel started forward, but Fred's hand at his leg stopped him, "No! Please! Let him go, Angel!"

Angel looked at the woman huddled at his feet. She looked bruised but not seriously hurt. Looking at the shattered window again, he gave up and slumped to the floor. He looked like he was in shock and covered his face with his hands. Fred reached a comforting hand to rub his back and then leaned her head against his shoulder, needing a little comfort of her own.

In the living room, the stereo continued its annoyingly drunken squawking and squealing unabated.

To be continued…

Author's Note: I have one hundred and ninety-nine reviews! Somebody feel free to do review number two hundred (or two hundred and five)! Actually, I want to thank all the wonderful people who bothered to write all these reviews throughout the story! You really make it worth writing! Thank you for each and every one.

As for the reviews for last chapter, Thanks Gopie! You were right, this one is something of a showdown, just not the final one. Maybe more of a drawing of the lines than a showdown. Hope you enjoyed the Wes/Fred interaction. By the way, I told you I'd let you know when it came up—Did you figure out the better question yet? Here it is: What is **_Wesley_** going to do when he catches up with **_Winston_**? This really is the final stretch of the story. I'm not sure how many chapters I have left yet, but when I figure it out I will let everybody know. I have to write ahead of postings to ensure continuity and help plotting. When I actually finish the story privately, I will probably speed up postings to as fast as I can edit them (depending on school). That won't happened real soon, but I thought I'd let you know that it's in the works. I won't drag the story out if I can help it at the end. Thanks Rainbow's End! Thanks for the patience as usual. I'm sorry you're suffering too. Hope school is going okay. Glad you enjoyed the Harmony bit (she's always good for comedy relief). Things are rapidly coming to a head. Thanks Spuffyshipper! I know I keep saying this, but hang in there. I think you'll like the outcome.


	44. The Fine Art of Compromise

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-four)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Music suggestions: Evanescence's album Fallen, song: Going Under. Wes on dad. Song: My Immortal. Fred working at computer desk, thinking of Wes._

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is almost over. I have written all of it. All I have left is the editing which I should be able to finish soon. As a holiday gift (and to get this story finished), I plan to start posting the remaining six chapters one at a time daily beginning on Tuesday, with the final chapter posted on Christmas Eve in the morning (so I don't interfere with anybody's holiday). Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year and best wishes to all. Thanks for all the reviews. Hope you enjoy the finale!

Gunn walked Fred down the stairs to the truck. Fred had mumbled incoherently about Wesley not acting like a vampire. She seemed to be working it out in her mind and, to some degree, out loud as she used to do in her crazy days. In any case, she wasn't making much sense yet, and Gunn treated her like spun glass as he walked her out.

Faith had shown up, chagrined at being deceived by the tiny physicist. The slayer looked like it probably wasn't going to happen again.

Angel surveyed the damage in the apartment, pulling the plug on the demented stereo. He saw the note on the table and stopped to read it. It was in Wesley's hand and said, "I'm dead. Stop looking for me." Angel crumpled the paper in his hand and stuffed it unceremoniously in his pocket. He grimaced, staring at nothing for a while, deep in thought. Finally, one word forced its way past his tight, angry lips.

"Daddy."

Angel took off, a goal in sight once again.

…..

Roger Wyndam-Pryce was not having a good day. The news his incompetent solicitor was sending kept getting worse and worse daily. Roger threw down the latest batch of useless faxes in frustration. He should have killed that traitorous Rupert Giles when he had the chance. If he'd realized what was going on behind his back, he would have. Of course, he conveniently forgot exactly why he'd let Giles go. No point in dwelling on past mistakes, both personal and genetic.

There was a knock at the door. Roger moved impatiently to yank open the door for another of his wastrel progeny. The stupid girl must have forgotten her key. His mouth was already open to tell her with pleasure, again, what he thought of her, when he realized it wasn't Mary but another of his children, Wesley, who stood outside.

…..

"Ya' gotta stop runnin' away from the people trying to protect you, Fred," Faith said determinedly to the quiet woman.

Fred glanced at Faith quickly and then away in shame, "I know, Faith. I-I just had to see him." She looked up eagerly at Faith, her eyes gleaming, "I think…" She paused for a moment and then continued firmly, "I think it's possible that he still has his soul, Faith. I think maybe the spell failed because his soul was already where it was supposed to be."

Faith looked interested but was obviously trying not to get too excited, "Why do ya think that, Fred? He do somethin' to make you think that?"

Fred smiled tremulously, "Well, for one thing, he didn't kill me."

…..

Wesley leaned his forehead against the invisible force keeping him out of the hotel room. The money his father had spent to obtain an actual lease was doing its job and keeping Wesley out. He tilted his head to peer oddly at his father, his voice eerily calm, "This was it, you know, the only thing we could agree on. We argued and argued and argued; it was maddening, but then it suggested this." Wesley smiled, a broad generous smile his father didn't remember seeing before.

It was unnerving.

Wesley added gleefully, "Absolutely brilliant, that."

"Who in the world are you talking about, Wesley?" His father said coolly enough behind his wall of safety.

Me, of course, you prat!" Wesley hissed spreading both hands against the unseen barrier.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce gaped at his former son, and then he exclaimed, "You've completely gone potty!" He grimaced in disgust, "You're even more useless dead than you were alive! Don't you think you should finish it."

Wesley smiled, "To think, the time I used to waste worrying about what you thought of me," he laughed. "You and Winston are both pathetic! For the two of you to have expended all that time and effort trying to prove that I was nothing. I have to wonder why? Was I that great a threat to both of you?" Wesley began to giggle, "You pitiful, little man. What deformity of spirit is it squirming inside of you that makes you compete with your own child? That convinces your other son to do the same?"

"I never competed with you, boy!" his father retorted.

Wesley stepped back from the door, his face grim, "I did warn you about calling me boy." He pulled a pistol from his holster and pointed it coolly at his startled father. Flicking the safety, he asked, quirking up an eyebrow and smirking, "Any last words?"

His father looked around but there was no cover close enough for him to reach. He managed to say calmly enough, "You don't have the nerve."

Wesley gave a chuckle, "I'm a vampire, _Daddy_. Of course I have the nerve, you idiot." His face changed, and his yellow eyes narrowed as he pulled back the trigger and serenely aimed.

"Wesley?" Mary's voice was calm but sad. She stood in the hallway, a stake and cross in her hands.

Wesley kept the gun up, unwavering, but turned his head sharply to look at her. At the sight of her, he looked uncertain. His face changed back and he said softly, "No."

"No?" Mary repeated, confused.

Wesley's voice thickened with pain, "No! We agreed! I won't do this! We have to agree." His head jerked in pain as he winced, and he slammed his forehead into the wall while lowering his gun arm at the same time. He screamed, "No, no, no! You can't make me!" Behind him, in the hotel room, his father moved quickly to a crossbow lying on a nearby chair and began to load it rapidly.

Mary stepped forward, "Wesley? Are you…what's going on?"

An uneven hole had appeared where Wesley had struck it with his head repeatedly. Dust and plaster covered his head and shoulders and when he turned his head to her, some of it rained down to the floor. He growled, his face once more that of a vampire while the white dust gave it a ghost-like aspect from which the yellow eyes burned. Mary, her face grim, swallowed hard and tightened her grip on her stake bringing it up.

Unexpectedly, Wesley grinned. Mary inwardly cringed at this shark-toothed distortion of a beloved face. Then, he ran.

Mary stood stock still, too shocked to move yet, when her father charged out of the hotel room, crossbow at the ready. He looked down the hallway, but Wesley was already out of sight. Roger said accusingly, "You let him escape, you stupid girl!"

Mary's lips tightened; she lowered her stake, but the white fist gripping it suggested where she'd like to put it. "I'm no more a girl than Wesley was a boy, so you can just stop using that term! If you wanted to stop him, Father, you should have done it yourself. I'm done doing your dirty work!" She stalked, brushing past him angrily, into the hotel room. He started to retort, his face reddening, but he thought better of it and, giving one last look down the hallway, he entered the room too and shut the door.

…..

Wesley's scent lingered in the corridor. Angel growled and pounded on the door, not particularly worried about the old man, but Wesley's sister on the other hand…

He could see someone looking through the peephole and then the door flung open. Mary, safe and sound, stood in the doorway anxiously, "Angel, Wesley was here! Something was wrong with him. He…sounded crazy."

Angel started to answer when the door was yanked out of her hand exposing Roger Wyndam-Pryce's red, angry face, "We're not inviting you in either, Angelus. Is every vampire in Los Angeles planning on visiting?"

Angel leaned forward until his nose was in danger of being flattened by the invisible wall intended to protect the innocent from evil, "You reensouled Wesley, didn't you? I could see it at his apartment. You decided to make another one of those crocked vampire watchers." Angel began to rage, his anger overwhelming him, "You figured why not? Wasted resources and all, right?"

Roger looked at Angel in confusion; he had unaccountably calmed as the vampire had grown hotter. "Somebody gave the vampire a soul? What a preposterous idea! Why would I do that?"

Angel sputtered, "I don't know; maybe because you already did it to your other son?"

Roger seemed genuinely puzzled, "But that was Winston. Why would I bother with Wesley? I have no delusions that he'd work for the council or me or be an asset if he did."

Angel stood looking in disbelief at the man. Mary, white-faced, abruptly marched away and slammed through one of the doors of the suite.

Roger said firmly, as if his words closed the matter, which they did, "I do have certain standards, Angelus. Some things are better left dead." He then closed the door on the topic. Angel stood uncertainly in the hallway, and then, making two fists angrily, he began to track Wesley's fresh trail.

…..

Faith watched discreetly from a distance as Fred worked on grimly. The slayer had tried to get the physicist to rest, but Fred refused and went immediately to Wolfram and Hart, the slayer in tow. Fred wasn't certain what was going on with Wesley, but she was determined to work some part of the problem; however, she wouldn't say exactly what she was working on. Faith couldn't stop Fred, but she watched her like a hawk. Even following her to the bathroom, she was determined that whatever Fred did or wherever Fred went, Faith was gonna be there to help and protect her. It was the least she could do for Wes.

…..

Angel was again frustrated by the rain and the approaching dawn. He couldn't follow the scent when it kept getting washed away. He decided to wait until nightfall to begin the hunt again. In the meantime, maybe one of his 'sources' had found something out.

…..

Webster decided that the souled wonder and street boy could probably manage to protect stick girl. He considered their probable reaction to his 'sit outside and wait' attitude and decided it might be better to be somewhere else for the moment, so he had followed Pryce to the hotel and was following now as the sky infinitesimally lightened with the approaching sunrise. The vampire appeared to have no interest in whether he was followed or not and simply appeared to be hurrying to some pre-selected location. Finally, Pryce reached an industrial plant and pulled open a locked door forcefully to disappear inside just as the sun rose into view. Webster eyed the area carefully and considered his next move. Who to tell? What to say? How would it benefit him best?

…..

Angel ran from the sleazy warehouse, a local gangster hang out, to his awaiting limo with his coat over his head. He batted at the smoke that arose from his body as the car moved smoothly through the slum streets. He hadn't found anything out, but the beating up the thugs had been stress-relieving—not particularly informative but stress-relieving. He was pretty sure the message had gotten through. If someone saw Winston or Wesley, they'd better tell Angel. He scowled, oh yeah, they'd better—or no more Mr. Nice Guy.

…..

Faith stood silently by Fred's office window watching the sun sink slowly behind the high rise buildings that made up the Los Angeles skyline. At the desk, Fred worked. Her eyes were red-rimmed with the need for sleep. Several partly-filled Styrofoam cups of long cold coffee were scattered across the table and an uneaten, stale sandwich lay pushed aside, forgotten and ignored in her quest. Over and over, Fred grabbed a file from a stack scanning through the papers in it until she got to what she was searching for, compared it to a thick set of computer printouts, flipping from page to page, and then looked at the computer screen intently. She typed in a few bits of data, leaned back to the printout again to run her finger down another row of figures. Perhaps it was the glow of the computer screen creating shadows and highlights across her face that made her look maniacally obsessed as she smiled coldly and said, "Gotcha!"

From the window, Faith looked on with interest, smiling, but saying nothing. She'd been around watchers enough to recognize an Eureka moment when she saw one.

…..

Angel walked into Gunn's office when his friend's cell phone incongruously rang with the tune Baby Elephant Walk. Gunn smiled sheepishly and answered, but his smile faded quickly and his terse answers told Angel that Gunn had gotten a lead. The former street fighter scribbled on some note paper while he listened.

"Good work!" Gunn said with satisfaction. "Stay there. Angel or I will call you if we need you to do anything."

Angel looked expectantly as Gunn hung up the phone. "The security guy who followed Fred to Wesley's apartment, followed Wesley when he left." Gunn took a deep breath and continued, "He knows where Wes is right now." Gunn handed the note with the address on it to the vampire. Gunn added, almost as an afterthought, "Fred asked to see you. She said she thinks she has something that will help."

Angel nodded absently, "I'll stop by on my way."

Gunn stepped out from behind his desk with the false heartiness of someone who knows he has a distasteful task ahead of him and is forcing himself to face it head-on, "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

"No," Angel said firmly. "I'm going to take care of this one by myself."

"What gives you the right to decide that?" Gunn said, half in anger, half in relief, at the unilateral decision.

"You know you don't really want to take Wes out, and he'll know that. It might get you killed," Angel elaborated.

"I took out my sister, you know," Gunn said more in earnest, feeling as if his abilities were in question.

"Do you really want to take out any more family?" Angel asked, already knowing the answer.

Gunn's eyes looked away confirming Angel's suspicion, and the vampire clamped him on the shoulder reassuringly, "When we find Winston, you're there. Wes wouldn't have it any other way."

Gunn looked at Angel searchingly and then reluctantly nodded his agreement.

After Angel left, Gunn looked around his empty office and felt lost.

As Angel stalked away, to all outward appearance sure of his plan to destroy the vampire Wesley had become, inwardly he was desperately unsure of what he should do about a souled Wesley. He was pretty sure that he was the most qualified to make such a decision. He alone knew the ramifications of being a vampire and having a soul. However, the only thing he was absolutely sure of was that it would be far easier to make a decision, possibly in the heat of battle, alone, and none of his friends deserved the agony such a decision would leave behind if the worst were necessary. For him, the weight of additional guilt would simply be added to the already hefty burden he had carried, and would carry, all his 'life.' Something more to atone for.

Not for the first time, he reflected that redemption was a bitch.

…..

Mary entered Fred's office and looked around curiously, "Is Angel here, Fred? I was hoping to talk to him. That secretary of his thought he might be here."

Fred was double-checking her results when she looked up, "No. I was just going to look for him myself. I think I might have something for him."

Mary couldn't contain her eagerness, "Do you mean you found some way to save Wesley, since he has his soul?"

Fred stopped moving, "How did you…you sound like you're sure that Wesley has his soul?"

Mary looked and sounded surprised, "Angel told me. He sounded sure. He thought my father had done it and told him off, but father wasn't responsible for once."

The papers in Fred's hands slipped unnoticed to the desk.

Mary looked bitter, "How nice to know that father considers Wesley and me not worth the effort." She sighed and then asked with concern, "You did know didn't you? Angel told you, right?"

Fred paused for a second and then smiled a little tightly, "Yes, of course he told me. I just didn't realize how certain he was of it. I already suspected something when I met Wesley." At Mary's look of surprise, Fred told her about the encounter at Wesley's apartment and Wesley's strange behavior.

In return, Mary told Fred about Wesley's visit at the hotel.

After sharing their experiences, Fred began sorting her papers again and Mary asked hopefully, "So, what have you found?"

Fred looked down at the papers and then back at Mary, "Well…I'm not really sure yet. It's probably too early to tell, but I'm hopeful." Fred kept looking down at her papers evasively, but Mary was too distraught by events to notice. Faith looked on impassively.

Angel walked in, "Gunn said you were looking for me, Fred. What's up?"

Fred looked at him hard and then said starkly, "I thought I might have something for you, but I have some more work to do before I know anything." She paused for a second and then said bluntly, "So, do you have anything for me?"

Angel moved uneasily looking at Mary nervously, "Um…maybe, like you say, maybe I'll know something soon. I could get with you later. Are you going to be here?"

Fred's lips tightened and she turned towards Faith. The slayer could see that the other woman's eyes held an unusually cold look, but Fred's tone was normal, off-hand even, "We'll be here."

Mary spoke up, "I'd like to talk to you too when you have a chance, Angel."

"Sure," Angel agreed, "I'll call you later."

Mary nodded, satisfied for the moment.

Angel, unaware of the tension, said with relief, "Good, good. I'll call both later." He left quickly and the room fell silent.

"Did I miss something," Mary asked. She wasn't sure what was going on but she was starting to realize something was off.

Fred turned and smiled, "No. Just a lot to do and not enough sleep. Makes my mouth disconnect from my brain sometimes."

Mary smiled wanly back, "I know the feeling. I keep hoping we'll find a way to make everything all right."

Fred's smile took on an ironic twist, "I certainly plan to try."

…..

Giles and Willow were researching using the books from Wolfram and Hart's library. The experience, to say the least, was a little different from their Sunnydale bookshelves.

"The magic emanating from these volumes is amazing! I think we could access every book ever written from these things!" Willow exclaimed as she closed the volume she was working with to call up another reference.

"What? Oh, yes," Giles muttered absently, "I suppose we could. Rather disturbing really."

Willow looked at him questioningly.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes wearily, "An organization like this, with practically unlimited access to such resources. I hate to sound petty, but…" he grinned wryly, "It just isn't fair and just think what they do with it."

Willow raised both eyebrows and tilted her head, "Wesley uses them to help Angel. Hopefully, good things come of these books, or," as she remembered what happened to Wesley, "at least, they did."

Giles looked at her like she was deluded and then shrugged, "Let's hope so." He thought for a moment and then asked, "Go over again what happened when you did the curse. Exactly what did the orb do?"

They both leaned forward absorbed in the technical details of magic.

…..

Angel rode in his limo quietly towards his destination, the dark streets a reflection of his dark thoughts. What would he do? Could Wesley be saved somehow? Or had the demon corrupted his friend's soul the same way that it corrupted Winston's?

_To be continued… _

Thanks to the people who bothered to review. Thanks Rainbow's End! I appreciate the compliment. I think there was a lot and I also think I managed the combat a little better this time as compared to the warehouse. I had to rewrite Fred to stand up for herself more. Thank my husband for that; it was based on his criticism. Thanks to Irish6red! I think you'll like what happens in this story as far as Wesley and the gang…and soon. See the author's note at the beginning. Thanks for the kind words. Thanks to TheDBoyLover! A brand-new reviewer just as the story is ending! Thank you for taking the time to review! Twice! Must be nice to come in and read it basically all at once. I do try to mix it up (humor, action, drama, angst), hopefully successfully. I hate to say it, but there are fathers like that—and far worse. I'm glad to hear you find it hard to believe. That hopefully means you have a good one. I had a good one too, but I know it's not always that way. I tried to make the Fresley believable, in part, because I think the show made it so unbelievable. I agree, I always thought of "My Last Breath" as a Fresley song. You know, I was confused about Spike getting his soul. When I saw the show, it looked to me like Spike wanted to get revenge on Buffy and unexpectedly got his soul instead. Apparently others think he went specifically to get his soul back, so I'm wondering if I misunderstood what was going on (I only saw it once, so that's possible. In any case, I thought it was a good idea plot-wise. A souled Spike was far more interesting. It was very kind of the other person to credit me for the idea of having a brother of Wesley as a protagonist. Their story was very different and very interesting and Wesley was suffering mightily. All good fun! Glad you like Mary and Giles. I know I called her Mary, but I tried not to make her a Mary Sue. Just interesting to make her a credible love interest for Giles. Anne and Buffy meeting would be very cool! I'm sorry it won't happen in my story but great idea! Enjoy the final chapters!


	45. Undone

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-five)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

The loud hum of large machinery at work filled and reverberated through the large room. The chaos of pipes, conduits, wiring, vents, scaffolding, electrical panels, switches, levers, and large vibrating machinery crowded the large room in all directions leaving only erratic pathways of varying heights and giving the area a far more claustrophobic feeling than the space should warrant. Wesley loved it. He leaned his head against one of the bigger machines, enjoying the continuous motion transmitted through his body. With the loud noise and soothing vibration, the ocean receded, and the hammer striking the nails in the coffin faded into the background. He chuckled, amused for no reason that he could understand. Rolling his head from side to side as if icing his forehead with the cool metal, his chuckles turned into giggles which turned into gales of laughter as he pushed away and staggered down the uneven pathway. He stopped suddenly as he saw standing in his way, sword in hand, Angel.

…..

Giles was concentrating so hard that he didn't hear the cell phone ring at first. Willow had to call his name twice before he looked up at her rather blankly and then realized the ringing at his elbow had some source. Picking up the phone, he flipped it open and said tentatively, "H-Hello?" Willow listened without really trying and realized that it was Mary. She smiled knowingly. It was nice to see Giles get flustered. He hadn't acted this way since Miss Calendar. She briefly thought with sadness of the dead computer teacher so dear to them all and such an inspiration to her personally. Then she realized that Giles had become all business, "Could you repeat that? What did he say to you exactly?"

Willow leaned forward, all ears. The past forgotten in the exigencies of the present.

…..

Wesley's laughter died down to chuckles again at the sight of his former friend. His tone was almost blithe, if a little loud to be heard over the machinery, "Well, well, well, the gang's all here, or, at least, the fanged members." Wesley started giggling again, "Are you here to fit me up with another coffin? Pretty white coffins, so tasteful."

Angel eyed him carefully as he tried to get through to his friend, "Wesley? You-you still have a soul. I can see it from here. I know…I know what happened to you isn't fair, but we can work it out."

Wesley just stared at him for a moment and then the gales of laughter started again.

Angel was startled by the reaction. He'd been prepared for anything…but that. He moved uneasily, uncertain what to do next.

Wesley calmed down abruptly; it was unsettling to see, "That's it, isn't it. The soul makes all the difference. Just like my brother and my father said." He cocked his head to the side and looked at Angel with amused curiosity, "Planning a little beheading?"

Angel looked down at the sword he'd forgotten, a little embarrassed. He let the point drop to the ground, holding it like a cane awkwardly, and tried to think of something that might get through to Wesley. He said suddenly, "Fred's worried about you."

Wesley turned away as if he'd been slugged, "What's left after love dies?" He added, tightly, "She-she can move on, find someone else."

Angel said starkly, "I don't think she sees it that way."

"Death has a way of making you face reality. I was just an afterthought for her." Wesley grimaced in pain as the machinery powered down for some unknown reason bringing the noise level down to a low hum, he looked around in irritation, "Now why did it do that?" He gripped a pipe overhead tightly as if he could start up the machinery by touch. The pipe began to crimp under the pressure of his fingers, "I have only one thing left to do and then I'll take care of matters myself."

"What's the one thing you have to do? Angel asked.

Wesley arched an eyebrow up and looked sideways at Angel, "You know."

Angel thought he did, "Winston."

Wesley smirked, "I figured out how to find him you know. Stupid sod! Always was too predictable. I was too busy living before; once I was dead it was dead easy." Wesley giggled again. The machinery shut down suddenly and Wesley grabbed his head as spikes hammered into his brain, he cried out, "No! We need the noise! We can think here, it's so hard so hard so hard to thinkthinkthink!" He pounded the sides of his head to some strange inner rhythm. "Had to come here to think, had to…" He moaned in apparent pain whacking his head against a pipe.

"Are you okay?" Angel stepped forward in concern.

Wesley jerked away at the Angel's movement, "Stay away! I don't want to hurt you, but we will!"

Angel stopped, confused at the strange combination of pronouns, and asked, "What's going on, Wesley." A squeal of ungreased gears signaled the start of the machinery again and skewered Wesley like a spear. He arched back screaming and dropped to his knees, huddling face down protectively, hands to his head as if he wanted to pluck his head off his shoulders.

Angel moved forward and touched Wesley's shoulder and was startled as Wesley popped up instantly like some kind of demented jack-in-the-box, his face morphed into vampiric features. He growled baring sharp teeth ferally and shoved his fist at Angel, shooting a stake out from under his sleeve. Angel was surprised but managed to move his body away and knock the fist aside enough so the wooden stake drove into his shoulder instead of his heart. Wesley immediately sprang to tackle Angel, and they rolled together on the pipes and thick cables, each grappling for dominance. Too close for Angel to make use of his sword, he shoved hard to put some distance between them and brought up the steel defensively. Wesley's eyes narrowed to two burning coals, and he stretched out his right arm to the side sliding the collapsible sword to its full length.

Angel knew what was coming but tried to prevent the inevitable, "Wesley, please…" Wesley ignored the words and attacked in a series of blows that left no doubt as to his intentions. Angel tried only to defend at first but found himself nearly decapitated twice and had to go on the offensive in his own defense. Wesley's fangs were exposed in a wide, self-satisfied grin. Angel found himself pushed back again and again and couldn't figure out how he could be losing against Wesley. They'd sparred many times over the years and Wesley had never…of course! That was it. He was fighting Wesley as if he were Wesley, but this was a vampire who'd sparred with Angel many times and now had the strength and reflexes to take advantage of what he knew. Angel adjusted the unconscious preconceptions that were holding him back and changed the way he was fighting; after all, Angel knew as much about Wesley's fighting style as the former watcher knew about his; it was just sped up and had more muscle behind it. More importantly, Angel knew a few moves Wesley had never seen. Time for a little demonstration. Almost immediately, Angel started to turn the tide, and Wesley started retreating; his demonic features beginning to grow worried at the unexpected turn of events. Wesley suddenly jumped up to one of the overhead scaffolding platforms and ran lightly through the maze out of sight. Angel quickly followed and barely managed to keep track of Wesley as he caught momentary glimpses of his prey through the convoluted machinery. Wesley reached a steel door and slammed hard against it, but it held with a shriek of grinding bolts and hinges. Wesley gripped his head again against the noise and backed up to run at it again. Angel arrived just in time to add his weight to the attempt, and the door gave way with a screech of scraping metal against metal. They tumbled together down a small set of stairs to land a few feet apart in an alley lit by several security floodlights. The silence was almost deafening after the white noise of the industrial plant. Angel was on his side and pushed up with his forearm as he quirked his arm to spring out the extendable stake. Wesley, lying on his stomach, instantly sprang to a crouching position and then gripped his ears in agony at the silence. Dropping his hands in defeat, his face morphed back into the features that had loyally spent so many late nights researching each challenge that faced them through the years.

Wesley spoke in almost child-like bewilderment, "Is this hell, Angel?" He added wailing, "God, they won't stop the hammering." His face crumpled in distress, like he was going to cry, and Angel stood in the silence torn between his friend's distress and the danger that same friend represented. He suddenly, as Wesley once again cupped his ears whimpering in pain, became aware of an endless hammering, a heartbreakingly familiar sound that should no longer exist. He stood still in shock straining to hear the pounding thump-thump when Wesley seemed to gather himself finally and jump up to run quickly from the lighted area, his shadow splitting and creating the illusion of numerous Wesleys all escaping in a crowd of well-timed synchronization of rapidly moving limbs. Angel, still on his knees, cried out, "Wesley!" and leapt to his feet. Giving chase, Angel was not sure exactly how it had happened, but he was finally sure of what he was going to do. Wesley must be saved.

Angel didn't know how it had happened, but…dear God! Wesley was alive!

…..

Mary had arrived to assist with the research. Willow couldn't help notice with satisfaction how well Mary and Giles worked together. Both businesslike in business matters, they often seemed to know each others' lines of thought while still able to contribute new ideas to each other. She especially marveled at the way one would start a sentence and the other would finish it as both immediately called up various books that would be the best choices to follow that line of research. Willow had her own ideas to contribute, of course, but enjoyed watching the meeting of the minds between someone she loved very dearly and someone, she could tell, he loved even more. She lifted her oversized volume so she could grin behind it in glee. Wait until she told Buffy.

…..

Angel was incredibly frustrated. Wesley had led him a merry chase all over the city. Angel would occasionally catch sight of him, only to lose him again a moment later. To his frustration, he kept up, but couldn't catch up. The wound Wesley had inflicted on him slowed him down just enough. Finally, Wesley escaped by, of all things, taking a taxi. Angel had kept up for a while, but Wesley must have convinced the driver to do whatever it took to get away because he sped away without regard for traffic lights or laws and disappeared down the highway at a speed Angel couldn't hope to match.

Recognizing that he was running out of time, he ducked into a nearby bar in the sleazier part of town as the sky reddened with the coming dawn and waited, fuming, for the Wolfram and Hart limo to come pick him up. The limo had fought the morning rush hour to get there, making it very late, and fought it getting back, unfortunately stopped dead for a couple of hours by a multi-car pile-up. Angel sat in the back seat fuming at his impotence, which was aggravated by the fact that the only person he seemed to be able to get by phone was Harmony. Not a particularly useful result. By the time he arrived at the Wolfram and Hart parking garage it was noon. Discouraged, Angel trudged to the elevator and arrived at his office to see a beautiful sunny California day streaming in through his necrotempered windows. He basked in the false sense of normalcy for a moment before returning to reality with a thud as Harmony passed him the usual endless stack of papers and messages that daily buried him administratively. He sat at his desk for a moment looking at them, and then he heard a familiar voice say check reference, Wolfram and Hart will try to take over . He looked around briefly to confirm that Wes wasn't there and then shoved away from his desk in disgust. He flung the papers in his trash can with some satisfaction. Riding his private elevator up to the penthouse, he showered and changed before the facing Fred and to tell her the truth, at least as much as he knew. At the front desk, he asked Harmony if she knew where any of the others were and, she admitted she didn't, except for Gunn who was in his own office now. He asked her to try to get a hold of everyone and have them meet in the conference room as soon as possible. Angel needed to get the others involved regardless of his personal inclination to go it alone; this wasn't something he was going to solve on his own. Time to put the 'team' back in teamwork.

…..

Angel's plans went awry right away. He had hoped to tell the others what was going on and get everybody working on the problem immediately. Unfortunately,

As Harmony quickly found out, either she didn't know the phone numbers of the people Angel wanted, or they weren't answering. It was one-thirty by this time and all the research department librarian knew was that Giles, Mary, and Willow had just gone out for a late lunch and hadn't specified when, or if, they were returning. Giles wasn't answering his phone and Harmony didn't know Willow or Mary's numbers. Considering Angel's current mood, she didn't think she should ask him, so finding that group was a bust. Fred and Faith phones were apparently turned off and she couldn't even trace their location. The only bright note was Gunn who promised to standby for the meeting at a moment's notice. Deciding she needed more help, she called the research department to see if they could help her locate her lost sheep before Angel handed her over to the wolves.

…..

They sat around awaiting the arrival of the good meal they'd ordered in the excellent restaurant they'd found within walking distance of Wolfram and Hart. "Do you think we should hurry through the meal and get back," Willow asked anxiously.

"And do what exactly?" Giles said with irritation, "We were up most of the night researching, only got a few hours of sleep, and were waiting twiddling our thumbs for Angel to get in touch for the entire morning so we can get more actual information, that only he can provide, to continue our research. I, for one, have no interest sitting around that place any longer. If he wants us, he can call." Giles slumped back and rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. He was unaware of the dead zone the buildings in the area created in this side of the restaurant. Their cell phone could not send or receive calls as long as they were there. Of course, the maitre de was aware of the problem. He was used to expertly assessing his customers and placing them in appropriate seating. The Wolfram and Hart rank and file were routinely seated in the 'good' side of the restaurant. He'd eyed their rather casual dress and, considering the clientele in the local area, immediately dismissed them as tourists. Accordingly, they'd been exiled to no-mans-land.

Equally unaware, Mary nodded her agreement and suggested they look over the menu and pick their desserts for later on. Willow brightened at the thought. They all picked up the menus to see what deliciously sinful concoctions the restaurant might have to tempt three very tired researchers.

…..

Fred sat in a dark blue electronics van disguised with a well known phone service logo parked outside the location she'd discovered. Turning the dials to get a better pick-up, she'd watched without any luck for several hours. There were numerous people in the building, but they hadn't really said anything, and she didn't recognize anyone. Finally, though, she'd hit pay dirt as a face she knew better than her own came into view. Winston had changed into the same outfit that Wesley was wearing the last time she saw him, but there was no doubt in her mind which brother was showing on the monitor.

Creep.

Turning up the volume, she leaned forward with interest and listened carefully. Faith, who was bored out of her skull, perked up at the signal that all this sitting around might have finally produced something useful. The familiar tinny voice was achingly familiar but had a petulant edge as it spoke up to the minions gathered in the lobby, "So, any word on mouse?" At the lackeys' negative responses, the so Wesley-like face wore a very unWesley-like expression as Winston ranted childishly over the failure of his 'troops' to perform. The two women in the van watched for a while, Fred's face showing a level of obsession that made Faith look at her with worry periodically. Fred, however, had no interest in what others thought about her; she only cared about finding Wesley, and she almost half-hoped someone would dare to get in her way. Angel wasn't the only one who needed some stress-relief.

…..

After a couple hours of waiting, Angel stormed out to Harmony to find out what was causing the hold-up for his meeting. After she stammered out an explanation, Angel nearly hit the roof, but, with a visible attempt to restrain his temper and a certain amount of resignation (a result of his previous dealings with Harmony), he immediately provided Harmony with Mary's and Willow's phone numbers and told Harmony in no uncertain terms to find Fred.

Harmony tried Mary and, fortunately, got through immediately. The researchers were just stepping out of the restaurant when she called. They promised to return as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, the search for Fred was not as successful. After two more hours of fruitless searching by phone, Harmony was finally relieved to find out that Knox, who'd been out most of the day doing some kind of field testing, thought he knew how to find Fred, whether her cell phone was turned off or not. He tried to explain about some technology he'd developed at Wolfram and Hart, like she cared, but she cut him off and told him to get to find Fred, like, yesterday. Preferably before Angel, whom she could see fuming through the glass of the conference room, skinned both her and Mr. Science (whom she planned to throw in front of her, if necessary, as a scapegoat to assuage Angel's fury) for her failure to find Fred.

However, Angel didn't get angry. In fact, at the appearance of the research team he seemed relieved. Harmony could see him talking vigorously to the trio and Mary's sudden clutching of Giles' arm, her face suddenly hopeful as she asked questions. Then, rudely, without a word to Harmony, the three left suddenly to be whisked away by the elevator. Harmony hoped she wasn't expected to keep tabs on such flighty people. Human behavior was inexplicable. She could only hope they were carrying their cell phones for Angel's next game of tag.

…..

Finally, with the sun setting through the windows, everyone was gathered in the conference room. However, any idea Angel had about getting right down to business without having to face the music was lost when Fred entered and stomped up to Angel like she was going to stake him on the spot. Faith sat down with the others to watch the sparks fly. It was definitely going to be a show.

Angel reflexively put up his hands is a mixture of defensive and mollifying gestures, but Fred apparently had been steaming all night and into the day, and the pot boiled over onto Angel's face…

"You lied to me! You knew I suspected something and, even though you knew the answer, you kept me in the dark. You were ready to give up on him. You sanctimonious hypocrite!" Fred had a full head of steam going and wasn't about to stop despite Angel's attempts to interrupt, "I get sick to my stomach when I think of how much Wesley paid for keeping secrets when the rest of this supposed 'family' keeps just as many for far more self-serving reasons. Gunn and selling his soul for a dumb truck, you and your stupid Lone Ranger delusion! I'm not a child, and I don't appreciate you all treating me like one! If you know something, you should tell me, or, pretty soon, I won't be around to tell! You're not the only ones that can keep secrets, you know."

"Fred," Angel tried to speak again, but the angry woman wasn't really interested.

"Wesley has his soul and you weren't going to tell me, I suppose, until you'd decided whether to take him out or not, right?"

Angel shifted uncomfortably and stood, "Fred, I…"

"Well, you better not have 'taken care' of him or I might just _take care_ of you! You…you…you…baboon!" Fred's threatened the vampire, her angry finger waving in his face. The fact that he stood a good head taller didn't seem to deter her at all.

Angel grabbed her by the shoulders to get her attention (and a word in). He was tired of only getting the word 'Fred' out, "Fred! You're right. I'm sorry. I should have told you he has his soul." Fred opened her mouth, obviously to retort angrily, but he overrode her words, "Fred, there's more. He doesn't just have his soul. He's alive!"

Fred's mouth stayed open in shock while Angel repeated more softly, "He's alive, Fred. We've got to save him, together."

Fred managed to gasp out, "How? I was sure he was a vampire. How could he…" Angel supported her as she swayed for a moment.

Angel shook his head in equal confusion as he hugged her close to give her time to gather her confused thoughts, "I don't know. He's a vampire, but he's alive, too. I don't think he knows he's alive, and I sure don't know how it happened, but I _am_ sure about it."

Giles' spoke out suddenly, "I think I know how."

Everyone looked at him and then leaned forward to listen. This was a lecture everyone wanted to hear. Every single word.

…..

Wesley sat huddled beside the back strut of a pier hiding in an unseen, dark cubbyhole created by the strut and the overhead boards of the pier. The sand was rough and cold, but he was oblivious to the discomfort, even using it to distract the pounding in his head.

He watched a laser beam-like light shooting down through a hole in the ragged boards above. As the day progressed, the light moved across the gritty sand creating a small dot of light that slowly moved towards him. He watched in fascination, eventually reaching out to watch the beam cause smoke to rise like little smoke signals off the back of his hand. Pulling it back, he watched the smoke stop only to put out his other hand and repeat the process. Over and over, he amused himself with the pain and the inner voice's protests.

Not too distance, he could hear the sound of children shouting and laughing, able to thrive in the rays of the sun. They were creatures of light, and he was now a creature of the dark. Soon, he would give himself to the sun.

The sea was rough, waves pounding hard against the cold beach in a regular soothing rhythm. The roar of the ocean combined with the pounding of the waves helped to cover the inner ocean-like roaring noises and inner endless thump-thumps slowly driving Wesley insane.

_To be continued…_

Author's Note: Thanks to my reviewers! Thanks to TheDBoyLover! Yes, Spike was very lame when he was evil and without the chip. He improved an awful lot when he started working for the good guys and was still evil _("Vampires! Grrr! Nasty! Let's annihilate them, for justice, and for... the safety of puppies... and Christmas, right? Let's fight that evil! Let's kill something! Oh, come on!")_. He was okay with a soul, but the whole storyline was a little crocked at that point, so I can't say much about it. Definitely Darla after Angel in the pecking order. Giles will explain what's going on next chapter. Thanks to –J! I hope the Wes-vamp angle hasn't been confusing in a bad way. Anyway, it should clear up next chapter. Thanks for hanging in there. I have been working to make Fred stronger, glad it came through. Glad you like the interactions generally. Many of the characters are peripheral to the story and it's hard to keep them 'alive' and in character. Dang, sometimes it's hard to remember to put them in. I agree entirely—"stupid cancellation leaving unresolved…" Rats! Funny that you think I sound too British. I'm actually American, but I did lived in England for several years. Maybe I'm infected or converted or something. Definitely something for me to watch for when I write. A writer should select words carefully for effect. Every word should have a 'why' attached to it. I only try to sound British when I write British characters so everything else is a mistake. Webster was mentioned earlier. He was the security guy that Gunn sent to follow Fred. Sorry I made it confusing. That's one of the problems with so much time between updates. It's easy to forget how difficult it is for my readers to keep track of details (especially the minor stuff) from chapter to chapter. Yeah, it's sad to be ending, but I can't say I'm sorry. I need to concentrate on school. I am thrilled that I will finish this. It was a big project and important for me to prove to myself that I could finish it regardless of how difficult life got at times. I really appreciate the support from you and others through this process.


	46. The Heart of the Matter

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-six)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

_Author's Note: Would you believe, Giles' lecture is one of the first things I wrote when I started this story. It was basically the basis for the story from the beginning. It's taken this long to get here. I had no idea when I started what I was getting into._

_Music suggestion: Evanescense album Fallen, song-Bring Me to Life. Wes on Fred generally. I think this is the last song suggestion. But every time the story has just Wes/Fred, think of Bring Me to Life._

_I had to reload this. I accidentally loaded an earlier version and the changes were important. Sorry._

The others sat quietly as Giles gathered his thoughts before he began to speak. Giles started by saying simply, "I believe that Wesley never lost his soul."

Most of the group looked shocked, but Fred looked thrilled and smiled.

"Mary and Fred told me of the strange events when they met Wesley as a vampire," Giles explained, "but I really got my first glimmer of an idea of what might have happened to Wesley when Gunn approached me about something odd he'd seen on the video of the hospital attack." Gunn looked embarrassed but proud as everyone looked at him questioningly.

Giles smiled at the man and continued, "He wasn't sure what it meant, but Gunn told me that Wesley's heart monitor only stopped because the vampire security team pulled the wires. When I looked at the video with a fresh eye, I saw that he was right. Even though, Wesley was clearly a vampire, there was no point in the video where he appeared to die. In fact, when I reviewed Wesley's medical records and x-rays, I found that the doctor was confused by Wesley's rapid improvement and the x-rays showing that Wesley's arm and ribs weren't broken, despite evidence from the Wolfram and Hart clinic showing that the ribs were broken earlier and the patently obvious break of his arm when he entered the hospital."

From old habit, Giles tried to grip the glasses he used to fiddle with when talking. When he realized they weren't there, he ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck instead, "I believe this is evidence that the demon was already in him and healing his damaged body long before the attack in the hospital."

"But how?" Mary asked, confused.

The others sat quietly as Giles gathered his thoughts before he began to speak. When he looked up at them, he started by saying simply, "I believe that Wesley never lost his soul."

Most of the group looked shocked, but Fred looked thrilled and smiled.

He continued, "We all know the events at the warehouse and the hospital. For all intents and purposes, Wesley was dead, legally dead, for several minutes, possibly twice. Only modern medical technology could have brought him back, and it did. Our old sources," he touched the book lying on the table in front of him, "can't address the new reality, where the boundaries of life and death are blurred and the dead can literally be brought back to life. Modern medical techniques must put traditional thinking on its ear as far as life and death go.

Faith asked confused, "You're saying, this happened because he both died and didn't die?"

"Yes, basically," Giles expounded. "It is a truly unique situation. Wesley was made a vampire while still retaining his soul."

Gunn said confused, "But then it's just like his brother."

Giles hastened to answer, "No, he isn't turned; he's possessed. It's just like any other human infested by a demon. When a vampire infests a human normally, it overwhelms the dying body, pushing the weakened soul out if you will, and taking control of the body. It animates and sustains the empty corpse." Giles smiled slightly, "The soul is a very powerful entity really. Otherwise, it wouldn't be so sought after, by demons and the like, for dark magics. However, restoring it in a dead corpse is like forcing a square peg in a round hole. It's an unnatural act. The soul knows it doesn't belong there and is more likely to be overwhelmed by the demon."

Willow asked curiously, "Why didn't that happen to Angel or Spike." She stopped suddenly as she realized that Angel didn't know about Spike getting his soul back.

"Hey, wait! Are you saying that Spike had his soul?" Angel asked incredulously.

Willow nodded reluctantly and explained, "He went through trials to win it back," and then she perked up, "You'll be glad to know he died saving the world!"

Angel scowled, "Of course he did. Always had to compete with me, the stupid git."

Giles ignored the conversation, although his eyes gleamed with mirth at her slip and Angel's reaction, but his words showed no reaction as he continued, "The demon didn't overwhelm Angel and Spike's souls because, in their cases, the soul was put back in long after the original event. The demon starts as a blank slate like an infant. That's why it takes on the identity, memories, and to some degree the personality of the host. Its thinking and rationalizing of its behavior isn't really far off from the original. It's a cruel, vicious, and certainly absolutely evil version of the original, but its motivations and instinctual drives are the same. The soul under these conditions may find itself sublimated under the control of the demon, perhaps willingly, in order to obtain its darkest wishes. Perhaps I should say _their_ darkest wishes. That's what happened to Winston."

"So he was seduced by the dark side of the force!" Willow said suddenly; then she looked chagrined, "That was way too Andrew, wasn't it? I was researching with him in England."

Giles scowled at her and went on, his irritation at the interruptions starting to show in his voice, "_However_, a demon over a long period of time will become somewhat distanced from the original 'template.' It will still be using the original traits to guide its actions, but will have exaggerated them, distorted them if you will, to the point that the soul, if reinserted, will be more likely to fight for dominance. Out of a sense of guilt, most likely, a rejection of the warped reflection the demon has made of their lives."

Fred asked tremulously, "So what you're saying is, the soul can't fight the baby demon, but it'll fight the grown-up one? Where does that leave Wes?"

Gunn said gloomily, "You're saying he's doomed, aren't you?"

Giles smiled, "No, in fact, I'm saying just the opposite!"

The group, which had started to look depressed, several slumping in their chairs dejectedly, straightened up hopefully at that.

Giles explained, "Wesley died, for a few minutes, and that allowed the demon to infect him. But he is still living, the soul belongs there, and it is now involved in a life and death struggle for control." He paused for a moment as if searching for the right words, "The man I knew in Sunnydale would never have won such a battle." The Los Angeles crew looked offended at those words. Giles mollified them with his next words though, "But in the time we've been here, I've sensed a significant change."

Angel spoke up at that, "He has changed. He's been through…a lot." He looked down uneasily at that.

Giles nodded in acknowledgement at the comment, "The fact that he fought the demon's nature enough to avoid killing the street girl, Mary, and Fred means that there is a chance, a good chance, that he can win. At least long enough for us to capture him and exorcise the demon."

Angel said, "When I saw him, he seemed to be having…problems."

Giles reassured them all, "With his training, intelligence, and experience, of all the people in the world, there is no one better equipped for such a fight." Giles turned his gaze to Angel, "Especially with the first hand opportunity he has had to observe your struggles with your demon."

Fred smiled broadly in relief and leaned forward with excitement, "So, what do we do first?"

Giles looked at Mary and Willow who looked equally eager to start, "We three should research the best way to exorcise the demon. I should think some modification of the normal exorcism methods should work, but we want to get it right. Beyond that, we need to find Wesley and quickly. A case like this has never been documented, but I imagine the effect of a demon who is used to having free reign in a corpse co-habitating in a living body is, at the very least, extremely disturbing."

Angel looked like he was going to say something and then, with a quick look at Fred, changed his mind and said something else, "Wesley has figured out where Winston is and plans to take him out, but, just like before, I don't know where Winston is hiding." His words ended on a note of frustration.

"I-I do," Fred offered shyly. She looked a little embarrassed, but defiant too, "I did a check of all the Wolfram and Hart employees we know worked for Winston. I looked up all the work they did in the period since Winston showed up. Last night, I found work orders by the vampire in contracting spending gobs of money to have some work done very quickly, some of it magical, to secure a structure at the ground level making entrance through anything but a door nearly impossible and to add several reinforced, steel doors at the several access points including the tunnel access to the sewer system. The structure was given an illusory façade from the outside so it wouldn't attract attention. In addition, some very expensive high tech security was installed by two of the traitorous electronic technicians. Faith and I," Faith gave a small wave, "got the security people to break into the camera system and we saw Winston and probably thirty or more of his minions inside."

Angel asked in surprise, "How did they get the authorization for spending all that money without me seeing it?"

Fred said wryly, "You did see it. You authorized it." At Angel's startled look, she explained, "I just don't think you realized exactly what you were authorizing them to do when you signed off for the repairs at the Hyperion."

Angel said in surprise, "The Hyperion! Why didn't you tell me when you found out?" At Fred's glare, he coughed and looked away, "Um, right." He looked out the window at the darkness, "We should go. We need to get there before Wesley, or he'll get killed trying to take them all out. Do we have a way to get in, Fred?" At her vigorous nod, he smiled, "Good. Then everybody gear up and meet me out front in five minutes."

Gunn spoke up, "I'll get some security teams and transportation out front."

Angel frowned, "I think we've had enough breaches of security that maybe we ought to go it mostly alone this time. As long as Fred can get us in by surprise?" he paused and looked at Fred questioningly. She nodded 'yes' again and he continued, satisfied, "Then let's just do it. Have Tominski and a couple of his most trusted men join the party. I think I trust him enough to buff out the team without the news getting back to Winston somehow. Oh! And bring a couple of flamethrowers to even out the odds."

Gunn nodded and pulled out his cell phone.

Angel asked, "Fred, are we going to need the electronics team, too?"

Fred smiled a little grimly, "They're still there. They've been keeping tabs on Winston for me. I can get an update on the way."

Mary spoke up firmly, "I'm going, too. We need Wesley more than the research at this moment, and I might be able to help get through to him if he's there."

Angel looked at her a moment, "If you're sure?" At her nod, he looked at Giles, to add, "Hopefully, we'll be back with Wesley soon."

Giles looked at Mary. He couldn't hide his concern, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he reassured Mary, "We'll do our best to have a solution by the time you get back with your brother."

Mary smiled at this stout show of support and hugged him before leaving quickly to go with Gunn to get some weapons.

Giles and Willow were moving out of the conference room when Angel grabbed the watcher's arm. Angel waited for Willow to move on out of earshot and then said quietly, "Wesley seemed pretty…crazy when I met him. What's going to be left when we get rid of the demon?"

Giles looked at the vampire stoically, "Does it matter? He's human and alive. We'll have to deal with the rest when it happens."

Angel looked back at Fred surreptitiously, "I'm afraid that whatever happened to Wesley is driving him mad. Something is really going…wrong."

Giles said curiously, "Doesn't this fall into Fred's category of withholding information that she rather emphatically told you might get you staked?"

Angel dropped his hand, "All she wants to do is save Wes, and I'm going to do that. I'm just worried how much will be left to save."

Giles sighed, "I don't think we're going to know until we do it, but we'll try to research the problem. There might be something that's been done in the past to help victims of possession that we can do to help him, too."

Angel smiled wanly, "Thanks."

Giles didn't smile back, "You need to tell Fred, and Mary, so they are prepared if they meet him. It's going to be difficult to persuade Wesley if they don't realize what they're facing."

Angel hesitated for a moment and then nodded, "You're right. I'll tell them on the way."

Giles smiled reassuringly, "I know you're just trying to protect your people, but Fred's right, you have to treat them like adults and give them the information they need to get the job done."

Angel looked a little wistfully, "You sound like Wesley. He always gave good advice, too."

"I'd like to think it's the trait of all good watchers," Giles said, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

Angel said teasingly, "And how does that apply to Wesley's father?"

Giles smirked and turned away, "I did say _good_ watchers."

Both men had a lot of history, much of it bad, but both walked away prepared to put it aside to work together to save a good watcher and friend. Such was the way of champions.

…..

Wesley moved briskly through the familiar tunnel system. He had beaten the information of Winston's location out of the minion that Winston stupidly continued to keep watching Wesley's apartment. Like Wesley was going to continue to prance in and out of the place for Winston's amusement and edification. He smirked as he remembered his interaction with the lackey.

_He held the bleeding vampire against the wall with one fist and commented lightly, "You might as well tell me what I want to know. If you keep stonewalling me, I'm likely to get miffed."_

_The creature struggled in his grasp, and gasped with unneeded breath, "You'll just kill me if I tell you."_

_Wesley chuckled, "You're already dead, you moron. Dying isn't the issue."_

_The vampire struggled futilely to get away again. Wesley sighed, "You know, this is another one of those shining moments of perfect agreement we've had." He twitched his head briefly in a twinge of pain. He scowled, "You really don't want to know what we've agreed to do to you if you don't cooperate." Wesley suddenly grinned malevolently and slid out his enormous knife from under his sleeve, the shimmering razor-sharp edge of the blade causing the captured vampire to shudder involuntarily. Wesley eyed the vampire speculatively, "Hmmm, where to start? Where to start?" He brought the blade up to the vampire's face and pressed it slowly in just under the eye._

_The vampire pulled his head back as far as he could but the relentless pressure of the knife followed him threatening to pop his eye out of his socket. He began to frantically say Winston's location over and over so rapidly that it ran together like a litany._

_The knife suspended in place, Wesley fought the voice within that seductively suggested unspeakable things to do to the vampire. **Keep pushing the knife. Dig out both eyes. After all, it was a demon, the voice whispered, undead and absolutely evil. Who knew how many had suffered from the thing's evil acts, taken in by the false innocent façade true evil so often hid behind.** The soft murmurs cut deep within his soul as his inhabitant knew just the right buttons to push._

_Wesley leaned in close to the frightened face, so normal looking, and whispered, "Show me your true face."_

_Its eyes widened, but it obeyed, the evil more easy to believe with the warped reflection showing._

_Wesley smiled in satisfaction, "Ah yes, there I am." The knife dug a little deeper._

"_You're nuts!" screamed the vampire wildly._

_Wesley nodded in agreement, "You're so right." He whipped a shallow cut across the face of the vampire and stabbed it deep in the chest which inspired screams and a spate of wild struggling that Wesley could not contain with just one hand. The vampire dropped to Wesley's feet and the former watcher regretfully shot a stake into the thing's heart turning it into a cloud of dust before the mess could turn into some kind of dreary chase._

Not as satisfying as they'd hoped, Wesley mused. Ah well, there was always Winston. He approached the tunnel entrance to the Hyperion, looking forward to the destruction they could both agree was necessary.

Yes, this should be far more satisfying.

_To be continued… _

I kind of thought when I sped things up that I wouldn't really get any more reviews. It was a pleasant surprise that I got one. Thanks to Rainbow's End! Nice to know that quick scene changes speed things up. Sometimes I feel like the story drags. I'll look that chapter over as an example of a faster pace. Okay, I'm not going for a Gollum sound, but creepy is good. I'm trying to make him sound crazy. Come to think of it, Gollum sounded pretty crazy a lot of the time so maybe that works. Enjoy your prezzie! Merry Christmas!


	47. The Taste of Ashes

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-seven)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Jordie leaned against the wall of the basement, bored stiff. He had spent some of his watch shift speculating on exactly what the so-called 'good guys' did with a cage overseen by camera system. His fertile imagination, spurred on by the gruesome horror movies he liked to watch both before and after his death, had come up with several titillating possibilities, but he'd finally run out of daydreams to distract him. Now he just waited for the end of his shift impatiently. He had the exciting idea of grabbing some nubile sweet young thing and playing out some of his fantasies in the cage as soon as he was free. Mmmmm…

Someone pounded on the thick steel door startling him back to his duties. Looking at the monitor, he saw his sire standing impatiently awaiting entrance. Knowing his master's annoyance with slow minions, he yanked the handle and opened the door wide, smiling ingratiatingly, "Sire, why are you entering this way at night? I thought you hated the sewers?"

Stabbing Jordie the vampire with his retractable stake, Wesley said pleasantly to the cloud of dust as he passed, "It has its advantages." Leaving the door wide open, he walked casually up the stairs.

…..

In the electronics van one of techs commented, "Hey, Peter Pan's back; he just came into the lobby. I'll give Ms. Burkle a heads up." Flicking a switch, he spoke through a communicator efficiently passing on the latest.

…..

Fred smiled, thanked the tech, and closed her cell phone with a snap. "Winston is at the Hyperion now," she announced.

Angel looked at the driver and snapped, "Step on it."

The driver obligingly stepped on the gas causing the van to smoothly surge forward; however, unknown to the group, he also knew that in 3.2 miles they were about to hit the mother-of-all traffic jams due to an accident up ahead, if his sophisticated navigation system was correct. It wasn't that he was working for Winston, just that he hadn't signed up to work for the good guys. Whatever risks he took now could only earn him brownie points later when the real management stopped pretending they'd ever given fang boy any power.

It was as simple as that.

…..

"Hey, there's something wrong with you!" one of the minions standing in the lobby exclaimed.

"Quite true," Wesley acknowledged as he staked the clueless vampire. The other two gaped at him in confusion as he methodically plowed through them. Alone in the lobby, he called out loudly, "Wakey, wakey! Ollie Ollie, oxen-free. Come on, everyone, time to play!" He surveyed the upper balcony hopefully as a group of confused minions gathered. Smiling broadly, he cheerfully waved them down, "Come on down! Get everybody down here. I have a matter of life and death to discuss with all of you."

…..

Easton had been sitting in the security room which was filled with monitors showing various locations in the hotel. Realizing that it wasn't Winston, he started to get up and stop whatever Winston's idiot brother had planned; however, on second thought, maybe this would be a good way to clear the decks and get Winston to give up this hare-brained scheme. Either mouse would get killed quickly or lots of the minions would get killed and then mouse would die. Either way, it was win-win. Sitting back, he prepared to watch the show with relish. Time to see what junior could do.

…..

Wesley waved them down vigorously, smiling at the vampires he could see. Some called to others, and the crowd slowly started moving down the stairs. Wesley backed to the front counter, leaning back casually and waited patiently. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he held up his hand to stop them, "That's close enough for this discussion. Is everyone here? Good!"

He smiled benevolently, "I have bad news. I've called you all here to tell you that you're fired." They looked at each other uneasily, puzzled, when he raised his hand, a ball of flame appearing in his palm. He rolled the ball deftly over the top of his fingers and back to his palm and looked, smirking, one eyebrow quirked up meaningfully. The vampires started to run.

…..

The techs watched 'Winston's' actions in confusion through the monitor when it blanked out suddenly, and, from the outside, an enormous flash lit up the entire first floor of the Hyperion. A concussion blast rocked the van violently and the ground shook lightly like some kind of aftershock had rolled under the earth.

The two electronic technicians looked at each other in alarm. "What the hell was that," one asked, "a nuke?"

The other shook his head in confusion and said shakily, "I don't know, but whatever it was just took out all our electronics."

They flicked switches for a minute looking for some spark of life in elaborate, expensive systems and finally gave up to look at each other for a few seconds in disbelief. Finally, one sighed, shoved back his chair, and stood up to go find a payphone and report the latest events to his employer. He was guessing that this was something she wanted to know.

…..

Inside, Easton stood in equal alarm as his screen blanked and the hotel swayed. He staggered at the mini-quake and saw a flash of light under the door just before it slammed open from the concussive force. He was flung against the far wall and lay there stunned for a moment. Wussley?! When had he learned to do that? Good lord! Was Winston out of his mind? Pushing himself up, he suddenly decided he'd had enough. Winston could stay and burn if he wanted. Easton hadn't gotten immortality just to get flame-broiled in somebody else's family feud. He hurried to the window, glass gone from the blast, and leapt out to freedom, leaving his past as the only part of him that could receive decent burial.

…..

They'd been sitting stuck in traffic for five minutes when Fred got the call. Her face grew red; she looked over at the driver in irritation and then abruptly got up and moved over to accuse him, "You did this on purpose."

He looked at her in surprise and blustered, "What are you talking about? I'm just the driver!"

She stabbed at the navigation system buttons to display the traffic situation. "You took us by a route that you knew was blocked by a traffic jam."

"I didn't do anything," the driver said sullenly.

She reached over him to open the driver's door, "Get out!"

He gaped at her, "What! We're on the highway!"

…..

From outside the truck, the driver suddenly flew out the door to slam into the cement barrier. He moaned and lay still.

…..

Fred looked at Angel as she slid into the driver's seat, "Thanks."

He smiled and nodded, but it faltered as she started to push buttons on the navigation system and then shoved the truck into gear.

"Ummm, Fred, what are you doing?" He asked with some trepidation as she pulled out of the line of cars barely missing the unconscious driver on the berm. Cars hooted their horns angrily at them.

"I'm getting' us there," she said firmly, scraping a car along the side that was in the way.

Angel sat back gripping the seat tightly as she swerved onto a steep grassy slope and bounced over the cement edgings at the bottom to get to another road. Angel looked uneasily at Gunn, who just grinned back.

…..

Unaware of the recent turn of events, Winston walked up to the Hyperion whistling brightly. He didn't have his brother yet, but he'd get him. After all, it was his responsibility as the older brother to fix this problem. He was sure something simple was the answer. Smothering maybe, with a pillow. He grinned. He loved irony.

Placing his palm against the security panel secreted discretely beside the door, the door opened and he strolled into the Hyperion, confident of success.

…..

The second tech watched Winston go inside, but was unsure of whether he should leave to report it or stay in case something else happened. He finally decided two Winstons were a significant enough event to report and moved rapidly to find a phone.

…..

Wesley had moved upstairs to do a cursory check. He was pretty sure no one had escaped, but he didn't want to leave any loose ends. He was determined to end it this time. He stood on the balcony and heard the door below open on the closing act of the show.

Ironically, Winston had stopped on the red painted pentagram that was permanently engraved into the floor, a permanent reminder of the dark magics Angel had used because of Wesley's catastrophic mistake when he'd…when he'd…he couldn't remember exactly what he'd done, but it was his fault. Something about babies and hell dimensions and throats cut and pillows.

He couldn't fix that one, but this mistake, he could fix.

…..

Winston was irritated, where was everybody. There was supposed to be guards on watch in this room. He was going to ream… That was when he noticed the dust. They'd had to do a clean-up when they moved in. The enormous piles of dust were an unfortunate reminder of past failure, so he'd had it swept up as soon as possible. But the piles were back, big as ever, "Damn."

From above, a familiar voice spoke, a voice whose mere presence had always set off a complex set of ingrained behaviors and reactions from deep inside, regardless of how Winston actually wanted their interactions to go. "Winston, you're about as predictable as a lap dog," Wesley said as he moved with measured steps to the top of the stairs.

"I'm no lap dog!" Winston said angrily.

"You've always been a lap dog, at father's beck and call without regard to right or wrong. He wanted 'better' watchers and you obliged."

"It was a good idea," Winston protested. Then he smirked, "Father just picked the wrong son."

"I think you'll find that turning me was an even worse idea than turning you." Wesley sighed as he walked down the stairs, "Whatever your or father's intentions in the beginning, you've embraced the role of vampire completely and, if I don't stop you, many others will die. Probably starting with people I care about, people I would die for," he added ominously, "people I will kill for."

"I wanted to turn her for you, Wesley," Winston said, trying to mollify his brother. "We can be together, forever. All of us."

"Why in the hell would you think I would want to spend eternity with you?" Wesley asked incredulously. "You are an unmitigated ass!" He added firmly, "No matter what, I certainly don't want to damn Fred to this existence."

Winston reddened at the insult, but tried again, "Look, Wesley, you're just screwed up right now. I can fix that. I think you'll find everything better after I…"

Wesley interrupted with an outburst of laughter. He was standing on the dais in front of the door. Only a short set of stairs lay between him and his brother. He spoke, his mirth apparent, "You are _so_ incompetent! It's rather funny actually. You've probably gotten more vampires killed while you were a vampire than you ever did as a watcher." Wesley sobered quickly as he added, "Father would be proud."

Winston cried out, "This had nothing to do with father!"

"Of course this is about father. It was always about father." Wesley suddenly looked weary as he pressed the heel of his hand against his head and winced, "I've had enough, Winston. You keep playing games and that's your mistake. I learned a long time ago not to play games with you."

Wesley raised his hand and a ball of flame appeared again. It crackled and roared with a barely restrained force.

Winston backed away, "Wesley, you can't kill me, I-I'm your Sire!"

Wesley smiled humorlessly, "I stopped taking orders from father-figures some time ago."

Winston spoke fast, there must be some way to get through to his brother, "Okay, so we're equals. W-We can work this out, Wesley! We can talk."

"This isn't a conversation, Winston," Wesley said quietly, his voice echoing in the empty void of the lobby. Once this room had been filled to the brim with real family. He'd lost that long ago. Time to get rid of the ghosts.

"Then what is this?" Winston asked half quizzically, half petulantly.

"Your eulogy," Wesley said,

…..

From outside, another flash boomed out from the bottom floor of the Hyperion, another blast and quake rocked the van. Unfortunately, this time, no one was outside to observe it.

…..

Wesley lowered his hand and smiled a little, "Like Angel said, you gotta cherish the little moments." He reached out a foot and stirred the dust at his feet. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," Wesley spoke softly over the pile of dust—all that remained of his brother. Perhaps this was all his brother had ever been to him. The smell and taste of ashes filled his nostrils and mouth. Appropriate, that.

Only one thing left to do and then he'd be done. At a reminding stab, he jerked his head to the side in pain. Okay, maybe two.

…..

The second electronics technician listened as the phone rang and rang but there was no answer. Annoyed, he hung up and tried again. Where was she?

…..

Fred squealed around another corner and the Hyperion came into sight. Angel expected her to come to a stop so they could leap out but she barreled up the street picking up speed. Angel yelled in concern, "Fred, what are you doing?"

Fred yelled back over her shoulder, "You asked me if I had a way in. This is it!"

She took the turn into the Hyperion's garden on two wheels, hanging precariously for a breathtaking second before she landed taking out some of the garden wall and obviously speeding up to go though the front doors like a battering ram. She yelled out, "I think they'll be surprised!" She smiled lopsidedly and tilted her head down in determination as she gripped the bucking steering wheel.

Gunn whooped loudly with excitement and hung on tight. The others in the van looked a little white faced, but grinned as Angel cried out, "But, Fred, I just got it fixed!" Then they slammed through the recently repaired front doors, again taking them out to land squarely in the center of the room.

The lobby was filled with dust in the air from plaster and massacred vampires. Bits of glass and wall and doors covered the floor, but all was silent as the engine was turned off, and they spilled out of the van ready to fight. Unfortunately, there was nothing left to fight. The building was like a tomb, in more ways than one.

…..

He gripped the grainy cement edge tightly as he quietly watched. They were on the roof overlooking his father's hotel.

_Now that Winston was disposed of, the voice inside whispered coaxingly, only his father remained. Could Wesley let daddy get away Scott free? Think of how the bastard was responsible for all this misery—far more than Winston. The tormentor of his childhood still lived to terrorize others with his warped sense of values. Could Wesley, the honeyed voice suggested, really leave good old dad untouched, the task unfinished?_

They were perched on the edge of the roof and looked through the hotel window at his father busily pretending continued importance while flicking through batches of papers and talking pompously on the phone. Wesley closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the cool breeze wafting across the high roof. The demon stabbed angrily at his inattention, and he grabbed his head and moaned, still undecided of his next step, but sure of the demon's desire.

_To be continued… _

Thanks to irish6red for reviewing! Glad you're still enjoying the story, especially since the big secret has finally been revealed. I thought it was a unique idea for a plot, anyway. I'm happy to give the end of the story as a gift. How lucky that it finally wrapped up around this time. Enjoy!


	48. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-eight)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

"Okay, so that was Wesley killing Winston's minion," Fred said pointing at the monitor where they could see the video of the events that happened at the Hyperion.

"And quite effectively, I might add," Giles said in amazement. He'd known Wesley had changed, but that…fireball…was something else.

"Yeah, Wesley's kinda been our go-to guy for magic for awhile," Angel said, a little impressed himself.

"Pretty good," Willow smiled. She could do far better, of course, but few could do what she did. For that matter, few could do what Wesley just did. She did loved magic…of course, not toooo much, not anymore.

"Okay," Angel turned off the monitor. "so Wesley took them out. Winston's minions and maybe Winston, too. Where does that leave us? Wesley said…" Angel looked unhappily at Fred, "he said he had just one thing left to take care of and that was Winston. He's done that. Then he said he'd take care of 'matters' himself." Angel looked away for a minute and then seemed to gather himself to say something deeply unpleasant, "I think he's planning on…killing himself."

"Why would he do that?" Fred protested. "He's alive, we can save him!"

"He doesn't know that," Angel pointed out. "He thinks he's damned. Something about what's happened to him is…I think it's making him crazy, Fred." He looked at her, clearly worried, "I think he was trying to keep us safe by getting rid of Winston before he finishes it."

"We have to find him!" Fred jumped up.

Angel nodded agreement, "The question is, where? I lost him in the sewer."

Mary suggested, "He went after my father before. Do you think he might go after him again?"

Angel looked doubtful, "He sounded pretty clear about what he wanted to do. It didn't sound like his father was a part of it."

"Yes," Mary agreed, "but at least we know it's something he wanted to do before. Maybe he'll go back."

Fred twirled a lock of her hair thoughtfully, "You know, she's right, and it's not like we have any better ideas."

Angel nodded. They were right. At least it gave them something to do. Then he had another thought and asked Giles and Willow, "How's the research going?"

Giles and Willow looked at each other, and then Giles spoke, "We've found several possibilities. We're having some trouble figuring out which one would work best and what adjustments we'll need to make to it. This situation is unprecedented, you know."

Willow added, smiling, "But we're sure we'll have it pinned down soon. You know, before too much longer."

Angel said firmly, "You have until we find him."

Willow had a sudden idea, "You know, I could try a locator spell again. If we have something of his and if Fred helps me, I think we have a good chance of finding him, presuming he doesn't have some kind of block up like Winston does."

Angel smiled, "Great! You guys do that. Gunn, Mary, and I'll check out her dad, and if you find anything out give us a call."

"If we find Wesley, I'm going," Fred warned.

Angel nodded in understanding, "Just call us so we can meet you there, okay?"

Faith came up and draped her arm casually over Fred's shoulder and answered for her, "_We_ will."

Fred reddened a little, but nodded agreement readily enough.

Although they hadn't found Wesley yet, the group somehow felt better for having a plan.

…..

He had watched for some time, the demon arguing vigorously in the background. All the while, his father worked in the hotel room, quite visible through the open curtains. He really wasn't that far from his father, but there was something unreal about it. Because of the distance, his father was smaller, less threatening, pitiful even in his self-important manipulations.

Suddenly tired of the constant tug of war inside his brain, Wesley pulled out his pistol and carefully sighted down its short barrel, flicking the safety to the off position.

…..

They were walking up to the hotel room door when they heard glass shatter inside. Something heavy in the room crashed to the floor.

Mary ran and swiped the key card to open the door revealing her father lying on the floor, broken pieces of glass scattered about, and a fax machine on its side, strange noises whirring from its cracked case. Mary called back, "I invite you in, Angel, and she stepped in the room looking around cautiously. Her father sputtered angrily at her for inviting a vampire into the room from his new position behind a chair.

Only Angel could hear the second shot and he shoved Mary behind the couch when the phone flung across the room as if an invisible hand threw it in petulant rage. It was in pieces by the time it hit the floor, another victim of the sniper. The shots were coming from across the street and Angel shouted out to Gunn, "It looks like it's coming from the roof over there!"

Gunn, still outside in the corridor, began to run for the elevator. Perhaps he could get to the roof of that building before Wesley got away.

As they crouched behind relative places of safety, Angel's cell phone began to ring. He answered tersely, "Yeah?"……Fred, I'm a little busy here……He's very close to the hotel, is he?...Kinda guessed that, Fred……Ummm, yeah, he's taking shots at us through the window…Fred? Fred?" He shut the phone with a snap and shoved it back in his pocket with a soft "Damn!"

Tentatively standing, he moved quickly to the window straining to see the far roof and hopefully the figure on it.

…..

Gunn wasn't sure the shots came from the roof, but, if Angel thought the shot came from there, it was probably the best place to start. He moved across the other building's rooftop, his axe at the ready. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but he wasn't going to let his friend hurt anyone else either. At the edge of the roof facing the hotel, he found two empty 9mm shell casings expended on the asphalt surface. Looking around, bouncing the casings in his hand, he recognized he was too late again and moved with a sigh back to the door leading down.

…..

Fred and Faith arrived to find Roger Wyndam-Pryce in the middle of a good self-satisfying tirade with his daughter, "…ever the exigencies of the situation, nothing excuses breaching the security of a council safe house. You are perfectly aware of the council protocols in regard to…"

Mary interrupted, "You pompous windbag! Stop quoting rules at me, Father. Angel is here to help. Forgive me for thinking that he might need to enter in order to do that."

"What? Was he going to flit between the two buildings to rescue us from a sniper?" Her father's voice rang with sarcasm, "I was unaware that vampires had added broomsticks to their repertoire."

"Be serious, Father," Mary said with irritation. "We were trying to save Wesley."

Her father looked at her like she was delusional, "Have you lost your mind? Wesley is dead. Why would you want to save what killed him? Especially since it is obviously willing to kill any of us by whatever means necessary."

Unnoticed, Fred entered and surveyed the damage, looking carefully at the window and the bullet holes in the phone and fax machine. Faith watched, but kept by the door with her sword leaning casually against the wall next to her.

Mary briefly explained the situation, and her father laughed, "What a complete and utter bollocks you people have made of things. And you people had the gall to take me to task for Winston. Even I would flinch at the cruelty of putting someone in such an untenable position. The unimaginable cruelty it would take would rival anything Angelus did in his heyday." Roger laughed hard, barely managing to get out the words, "And you call yourselves the 'good guys'!"

Fred marched up; she'd had enough, "Shut up! At least we care what happens to Wesley. You turned Winston into a monster, and he's done nothing but made our lives miserable since he arrived. Winston did this horrible thing to Wesley, not us, and that means _you_ did it. She snatched the sword from the wall beside Faith. Faith stood in surprise and then grinned and leaned back again.

Fred pointed the blade at Roger threateningly stabbing the blade forward to emphasize certain words, "Wesley didn't try to _kill_ anybody here. He's too good a shot. If he wanted _you_ dead, _you'd_ be lying on the carpet with a bullet between _your_ stupid eyes. He's sending _you_ a message." She stabbed in the direction of the perforated phone and fax, "He shot the tools _you_ use to work here. _He_ wants _you_ gone; _I_ want _you_ gone." Roger had backed up nervously at her awkward wielding of the sword. She eyed him narrowly and brought up the sword closer, "If Wesley gets killed and you're still around, I'm gonna find you and take you out myself." She smiled dangerously, "You might wanna get out before that happens."

Roger stopped retreating and stood his ground, drawing himself up to say stoutly, "I'm not afraid of _you_, little girl."

"You should be," Fred threw down the sword at his feet and moved to leave.

"What exactly are you going to do to me, little girl?" Roger laughed shortly in disbelief.

Fred voice had an edge that Angel and Gunn hadn't heard since the events of Professor Sidel, as she marched out the door, "You really don't want to know what I did to the last man that pissed me off."

Faith sidled up casually and picked up the sword; she grinned maliciously and swung the sword up to her shoulder, causing Roger to wince involuntarily. Waggling her fingers at him in a blithe, but somehow threatening, see-you-later kind of wave, she waltzed out the door.

Angel and Gunn left quietly. Angel almost felt sorry for Roger but not enough to interfere if it came to that. Gunn figured he'd help if Fred wanted it when the time came. He'd learned something from last time.

Once they were all gone, including his spineless daughter, Roger looked around the damaged room and decided he'd have the hotel send the bill for damages to Wolfram and Hart, after he moved to a more discreet, and unknown, location.

…..

He was on another rooftop. This would be his last, he decided. He leaned his head wearily against the strut propping up the enormous letters beside him. He was so tired. They both just wanted it to be over now. They could feel it in their bones. The sun was coming. They would wait for it together.

…..

The fang gang stood on the sidewalk in front of Roger's hotel. Angel looked up at the building Wesley had been at the top of just half an hour ago, "I can go up and see if I can track him."

Fred shook her head 'no' and opened her phone, "I've got a better idea." She listened while the phone rang; then someone picked up and she said the inevitable, "Willow?"

…..

While Willow chanted in the background, Giles continued his research. He was confident he'd found the best ceremony for the exorcism. He'd also found several healing spells for those who'd suffered from possession. The question was which one would help Wesley the best? Hmmm…this one seemed oriented towards the psychological aspects… He kept sorting through the options as Willow droned on. He ignored the swirl of wind at his back until she squealed in glee and started punching the buttons on her phone.

Giles smiled; he knew what the squeal meant, and he hoped that soon he would have equal success, minus the squeal of course.

…..

They piled out of the van and looked up at the Hyperion hotel, once their home and base of operations in their fight against evil.

"How is it we keep ending up here?" Gunn asked, sighing.

"Because it has so many strong associations for Wesley" Angel answered. "Winston wanted to bother Wesley, so he used it. Wesley wants to…" Angel stopped suddenly and looked down.

"This is the closest Wesley ever had to a home. He wants to finish it here," Mary said almost matter-of-factly but a small tremor under-laid her voice as she looked the hotel over searchingly.

Fred was quiet. She too was surveying the building as if any second it might speak up and tell her Wesley's location.

Gunn broke the reverie, "So, we just gonna go room by room through the place. It could take a while." He also looked the building over, but he was obviously contemplating the time they'd waste searching.

Fred, Angel, and Mary all said at the same time, "Roof." They looked at each other in surprise and then smiled ruefully at each other.

Mary eyed the building again speculatively, "We could be wrong," she warned. "It is a big building."

Angel nodded, "Maybe you guys should search the rest of the hotel while Fred and I check out the roof?"

Mary, Gunn, and Faith looked at each other, nodded their agreement to Angel, and moved quickly through the gaping hole in the front of the hotel with Fred and Angel.

…..

Anxious about Wesley, Fred urged Angel to run ahead. At the top of the stairs he slowly opened the door to the roof as noiselessly as possible. Stepping out, he looked around for Wes and spyed him by the giant letters spelling 'HYPERION' across the rooftop. Perched on his haunches right on the narrow edging like some kind of gangly bird, Wesley was rocking precariously backward and forward, one arm wrapped around his thin body, the other around his head. Each forward rock threatened to take him over the edge. Angel doubted the fall would kill Wesley in his current condition, but it certainly wouldn't do him any good.

Angel moved up until he was about ten feet away when Wesley spoke, his voice tight with pain, "Stay away! Stay away!" His agitation made his rocking even more violent.

Angel stopped and pleaded, "Wes, please, relax; I'm not moving. I just want to talk; I promise."

Wesley's rocking calmed down a little, and he said tensely, "I don't want to talk." He stopped speaking for a second and then continued, "We're waiting."

Angel could feel the imminent pressure of the rising sun. He knew what Wes was waiting for. Angel tried to get through, "Okay, how about you just listen; you can listen, can't you?"

Wesley didn't answer, but his body seemed to slow a little more.

Angel didn't know how to start, so he just plunged in, "Wes. You're alive. We're not certain what happened, but Giles thinks you're not turned; you're possessed."

Wesley started to hum softly, tunelessly. He showed no sign that he heard.

Angel was nervous at this response, so he tried again, "We can save you, Wes. Whatever happened, it went wrong. That's why you're hurting so much." Angel pleaded, "We can fix it; please let us fix it,"

Wesley rocked harder again, "Mr. Fix-it, Mr. Fix-it. I'm just a tinker toy." He gasped in pain, "Oh God! Stop yelling at me! Make the pain stop, please stop!"

"Wes?" Angel moved up a few steps in concern.

Wesley screamed, "Staybackstayback! Leave us alone!" Wesley peeled the arm wrapped around his body away, revealing a stake held firmly in his grasp. He giggled, wincing in pain periodically, his head jerking to the side with each twinge. In a singsong voice, he said, "I've got the aspirin." Then he moaned again, lolling his head against his chest as the pain rolled over him in waves.

From behind Angel, Fred's voice piped up tenderly, "Wesley?"

"No, no, go away. Dead and gone. We're dead and gone," he gasped moving sideways dangerously. He pressed the stake against his chest and continued the rocking.

Fred said soothingly, "Please, Wesley, let us help you. I-I miss you so much." Her voice broke on her words, the emotion welling up to almost overwhelm her.

Wesley stopped rocking and peered at her from under his arm for a moment, then still looking he said softly, "I miss you, too."

Fred was thankful for the apparent momentary lucidity and pressed forward slowly, "We can help you, Wesley. You don't have to do this alone,"

Angel watched, worried about the gradually lightening sky outlining his two friends.

"I can't take the hammering anymore!" he began rocking again. "They keep driving nails in my coffin," Wesley cried out painfully.

"I can make the hammering stop, Wesley. Please let me," Fred had slowly kept moving up and Wesley let her, not reacting like he had to Angel's approach. When she was next to him, Wesley became still and looked up like a lost child at her, his face forlorn, "I lost you."

She caressed the side of his face, "We lost each other, Wesley."

He looked forward and started rocking again, pressing the stake hard against himself, "You're gone. It told me you're gone."

She sat beside him and put her hand over his, over the stake, "Please come back to me."

He didn't look at her, just at her hand enclosing his, causing a tingling sensation to spread from his hand throughout his body like wildfire. He said softly in wonder, "You always take my breath away." He looked at her, his eyes glistening with tears.

"That's because you're _alive_, Wesley," Fred urged, tightening her fingers around his, trying to transmit the truth to his fevered brain.

He looked at her in confusion, "I wish you were here." He sighed and plopped down beside her, his backside sitting on the edging rather than perching, "I'm so tired." He covered his ear with his hand wincing again, elbow held in tight to his body like he wanted to crawl inside himself and disappear.

Wesley started rocking from his new position, pounding one side of his head with his fist. Fred reached up and pulled his fist to her heart. He slowly spread his hand flat, her heartbeat transmitted through his fingers. He looked at her bleakly. She kissed his cheek and pulled him close to hug him.

Angel smiled when he saw Wesley close his eyes tight and feverently hug her back; then, Wesley's eyes opened and they flickered from blue to yellow and back again.

Angel started at the sight and immediately moved forward, "Wesley?"

Wesley pushed Fred away and shouted, "No! I won't! We have to agree!" He clutched his head writhing. Angel tried to pull Fred to safety, but she struggled free, and Angel let her go but stayed near.

She reached out and clutched at Wesley's wrist, "Please, Wesley, please come with me." Angel froze awaiting his friend's response, ready to protect Fred if necessary.

Wesley stilled. Fred tugged gently and Wesley let the stake go and followed. Concerned how Wesley would react if it clattered to the ground, Angel deftly caught it before it hit. Wesley was oblivious to Angel's presence and followed Fred still holding a hand to his ear as if he had the mother-of-all earaches. Angel backed to open the door. He could see a tiny sliver of the sun peeking out on the horizon. As the pair passed him, Angel smiled at Fred. As Wesley went by he unexpectedly gripped his head with both hands and bent over in pain.

In concern, Fred touched Wesley's back and started to speak to him, but he shoved her hard to the ground. Wesley, gripping both hands in a double fist, hammered a surprised Angel on the jaw. Stunned, Angel crashed against the open door and then dropped to his knees shaking his head. Wesley tackled Angel backwards to the ground so hard they both bounced. Angel, still dazed, feebly tried to fend Wesley off. Wesley's golden eyes burned with hate, and his sneering voice reverberated unnaturally, deep and harsh, "I will take both of you with me into the sun, you freaks!" His distorted features were even more misshapened by his rage.

Grappling together on the ground, they were both below the lip of the roof's edge so the rising sun had not yet touched them. Wesley, taking advantage of Angel's momentary disorientation, grabbed Angel's collar and slammed his head against the hard surface of the roof several times nearly knocking Angel unconscious. Fred scrabbled over and glommed Wesley's arm, pulling hard while pleading, "Wesley, let him go!" The slowly, but perceptively, increasing light touched the top of Wesley's head and smoke started to drift slowly up from it.

Wesley turned his head slowly to look uncomprehending at Fred's ineffectually yanking.

The sensation of early rays upon his face caught him attention. Wesley looked up, the early sun's heat burning the upper part of his face. Fred screamed again, "God, Wesley! Stop! You need to get inside!"

He finally seemed to react to the words. Ignoring Fred, he gripped Angel tight but gripped even tighter inside as he fought the control of the demon. He gritted his teeth and forced out the words, "No, no, no. You can killed me, but I won't allow you to kill him!" He got on his feet and dragged the practically comatose Angel towards the door. Smoke was rising from Wesley's body in copious amounts at this point. Fred let go of Wesley's arm and gratefully helped to drag Angel. At the door, Wesley practically flung Angel through it, throwing Fred off balance. She leaned against the wall beside the door as Wesley slammed it shut—with himself outside.

He stood facing the sun, while Fred looked on in horror. Raising his arms as if in supplication to an ancient sun god, he offered himself to the burning rays of morning light—his final dawn. He cried out, "We agreed. We'll go together. I won't leave you." The smoke grew so thick that Wesley could not be seen. He cried out in pain but also strangely in relief, too.

Fred could dimly see the outline of his form collapse and disappear in the smoke and then a great explosion burst into a large cloud of ash obscuring the area completely.

The ash settled slowly, gradually revealing Wesley's unmoving but still solid body lying on the roof. Fred crawled over and touched his face tentatively as if she were afraid he might crumble into dust at her touch. He stayed, eyes closed as if in sleep; his face flushed and chest rising and falling with comforting regularity. Hugging him close, she began to cry.

…..

The strong, steady beat of the heart monitor in the background was reassuring. Wesley had been unconscious for four hours now, pale and unmoving, with tubes and numerous IV's covering his body like a spider web. All of this felt unnervingly familiar. She felt the need to hold his motionless hand continuously and looked up when she felt the slight movement of his hand. His head moved restlessly, and then his eyelids opened slowly, eyes unfocused and distant. Feeling her heart leap into her throat in fear, with difficulty she finally managed a tremulous, "Wesley?"

He turned his head slowly, and she could tell when his vision focused on her as a small flame lit up in the depths of his eyes. He tried to speak but couldn't quite get out the words, and she gently brushed his spiky hair to one side, resting her hand against the side of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into the caress, sighing deeply with relief. She gathered strength from the warmth of his face against her hand; then his eyes opened against slowly, and he whispered so low she could barely hear him, "Had nightmare…so…confused…," he paused at the effort and gathered his strength to continue, "couldn't…find…you…I…thought…I…lost…you."

She whispered back, "We all had a nightmare. But it's all right now."

His eyelids fluttered as he tried to stay awake, "So tired…afraid."

She made soothing sounds, "Shhh, you go to sleep now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

He struggled to get the word out, "Promise?"

Still gripping his hand, she leaned over close to his face and whispered softly, "Promise," and kissed his forehead.

He was already asleep again by the time she raised her head, but a small, relaxed smile graced his features.

It was outdone by hers.

_To be continued…_

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Nice to hear from both of you again. Thanks to gopie! Yep, time to finish this story. Only two short chapters left and it's all done. I thought Wesley's fight went very well. Glad you liked it. Thanks to braven! Glad you enjoyed the plot twist. It was at least something I'd never read before in fan fiction, so points for originality. Only one plot twist left. Thank you for your comments.


	49. A Rose by Any Other Name

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Forty-nine)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Wesley worked through the paperwork on his desk with relish. It was nice to be back to work, researching, locking horns with the nebulous Wolfram and Hart infrastructure,…and alive. Now that the demon was gone and the hyper-senses that came with it were gone too, he could revel in the peace of being comfortable within his own skin, perhaps more comfortable than he'd ever been in his entire life. Hearing a cough, he looked up, surprised to see his father standing in the doorway.

Standing awkwardly, he came around to the front of his desk, "They told me you left."

Roger Wyndam-Pryce sauntered into the room, his hands in his pockets. He stopped a couple feet away from his son, "Mary called to tell me that you were 'back.' She was unaware I was still residing in Los Angeles." He looked his son over with the air of seeing something for the first time.

Wesley leaned against his desk and crossed his arms stubbornly. "You didn't need to come," Wesley said resolutely. "I think we've said it all, don't you?"

Wesley's father strolled over to the bookshelves and looked over the selection of texts that Wesley had decided to bring into the den of evil. He threw almost carelessly over his shoulder, "Have you given any thought to your new position."

Wesley was puzzled, "What new position? Do you mean living?"

"No, of course not," his father answered impatiently giving up the semblance of off-handedness. "You are now the heir. You have a position to prepare for, to live up to. It is your responsibility and heritage."

"Heritage? You _must_ be desperate. You haven't acted like it was ever a part of my heritage before. All my life, you seemed quite satisfied with Winston as the sole true representative of the family."

"Yes, well that obviously isn't a choice anymore," Roger admitted reluctantly. "Winston failed to live up to his obligations, but the obligations still exist and must be fulfilled."

Wesley retorted angrily, "He didn't live up to them because he wasn't alive! If you remember, you killed him."

"It was a mistake. I admit it," Roger said frankly. "I should have known better than to think we could use the enemy's strengths against them successfully. The evil imbedded in vampires is too much to overcome."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Wesley said raising one eyebrow and tilting his head knowingly.

Roger coughed and mumbled, "Yes, I suppose you do. Regardless, I'm sure with assistance you can fulfill the family obligations adequately. Perhaps not with the aplomb of Winston, but sufficient to get the job done."

Wesley dropped his arms and gripped the desk tightly. It was time to ask the question he'd always wanted to ask but been afraid to because of the answer he'd suspected he'd get. He sounded almost pleading as he half-asked, half-stated a fact, "You always preferred Winston over me. I never understood it."

Roger half-smiled, "Actually, my boy, it's the other way around. I've always preferred Wesley over Winston. You see, you're Winston, not Wesley."

"Wesley was thoroughly confused, "What are you talking about?"

Roger scratched his beard as he thought back, "Hmmm, well, you see I had the estate entailed to ensure that the person primarily responsible for carrying on the family name and duties at the council would also have the necessary assets to undertake the work. Winston was my first born, so he would get the entire estate. That was you. However, you became deathly ill. For a while, we thought you were going to die." His smile grew grim, "That would have been preferable to what the doctor said about you. The doctor thought it likely that you would be physically weakened for the rest of your life. That was, of course, unacceptable." His face showed satisfaction at the simpleness of the plan, "I simply told the doctor you were Wesley and that's how he recorded it. Your mother knew naturally. She was reluctant, but acceded to my wishes as a good wife should."

Roger eyed Wesley up and down again and pursed his lips in thought, "Then again, perhaps I bet on the wrong horse. You have proved unexpectedly resourceful. Obviously, I don't approve of the undisciplined outer appearance; however, I must say you've demonstrated considerable improvement in most areas. Who knows what might have happened if I'd let things take their natural course."

Wesley felt the desk edge crack slightly under the strain of his whitened fingers, but his voice, although tense, was even-toned, "From your perspective, Father, it's probably for the best. I'd be a vampire, and you'd most certainly be dead. You see, Father, Winston might have redirected his anger and blamed me for the sorry nature of his life, but I've always blamed you—and I _am_ more competent than Winston." He stood to face his father and remembered a moment when his father had seemed small and pitiful. Somehow, now, his father would always appear that way to him. Suddenly, he was tired again, like when he'd given up on existence with the demon on the roof, "Go away, Roger. You are the waste of space you always tried to convince me I was. I'm not doing anything for you or with you ever again."

Roger said angrily, "You must come back and be a watcher! It's your duty, boy!"

Wesley shouted angrily, "I don't owe you or anyone else any duty!" Wesley reined in his feelings and said forcefully, "You better start treating Mary better, Father. You've lost both your sons. You don't have any more children to waste. Oh, and thanks for the estate; I'm sure I find some use for the money after you're dead." Wesley turned and picked up his phone, punching a few numbers, "Security? I need you to escort someone out of the building."

Roger said stiffly, "I can find my own way out."

Wesley nodded pleasantly, "Never mind, security. I'll take care of it." He moved to the door and waved his father out courteously, a small smile gracing his face.

Roger moved grudgingly to leave but saw the Burkle woman peer in the door and Wesley smile at her with rather pathetic sweetness. Roger almost said something more to Wesley but gave it up as a lost cause and stalked out proudly. He'd take Mary and get out of this hell hole.

Mary was standing near the elevator where he'd told her to wait. Good. He was so busy retaining his pride, he ran into Giles without realizing he was there. They both mumbled apologies briefly before they realized who exactly each one had run into. Angelus, Gunn, and that ridiculously stupid, blonde vampire secretary were standing at

"You!" Roger was incensed at the unexpected arrival of the other thorn in his side, a sharper thorn if he was honest with himself.

Giles looked a little annoyed at meeting his former mentor, Roger Wyndam-Pryce, but nerved himself to whatever came of it, "Yes. Me." He reshuffled the papers in his hand and began to move, "Ummm, well, I assume you're on your way. Have a nice flight." He began to move towards the elevator. The direction he'd been heading in when they collided.

Roger's words had the tone of imperial command, "You must cease your interference with Council activities at once. I have no idea how you convinced the council's solicitors to allow you access to council funds, but I will correct the mistake when I get back to England and take steps to recover whatever you've frittered away so far."

"Hmmm, mistake," Giles smiled and put one hand in his pocket, clearly at ease. "Interestingly enough, the solicitors in London who handle the Watcher Council's business went done the list of active watchers, in order of seniority, seeking the most senior _active_ living watcher, strictly in accordance with the Council's by-laws, and guess who they ended up contacting?" Giles gave a small smile and pointed at himself. "Those rules were laid down so far back in history, they are unassailable legally. I think you'll find any attempt to do so costly." He was really enjoying himself at this point, "I have complete control over the Council's funds, the Watcher Academy, and, at present, according to emergency procedures, I represent a quorum for all decision-making. This means I have a free hand in changing all the idiotic methods introduced over the years to pander to old intransigent, self-important, egotistical men who felt free to abuse their power over children. We serve the slayers, not the other way around. I intend to make sure the 'new' council reflects that reality."

"_You_ control the money!" Wesley's father looked almost apoplectic.

"Yes, well, you might say the estate was entailed," Giles looked blandly at the elder Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley and Fred, watching from the sidelines, both at first looked startled and then smiled at each other. Angel covered his mouth and coughed. Gunn gave a snort and openly grinned. Harmony seemed to ignore the conversation as she picked up her phone and made a call.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce knew he was beaten. His face angry and red, he ground out through gritted teeth, "Come, Mary. It's time to leave this godforsaken country!" He started towards the elevator and pushed the button.

Mary backed towards Giles and shook her head 'no' slowly, "Sorry, Father. You were right; I needed to make a decision, and I've decided I'm on the side of the council. As a watcher, my place is with Mr. Giles."

Her father stood stock still in shock, almost, impossibly, his face turned redder as he struggled to find words to bring the world back to a level position from the impossible tilt it seemed bent on adopting..

Giles, casually standing with his hands in his pockets, smirked nonchalantly, "You don't actually have to worry about Mary. She's going to be working with me to rebuild the council. She is, after all, an _active_ watcher.

Giles smiled at Mary as she stood beside him. She smiled back shyly, and he grew slightly flustered and looked down and then back up at her a little shyly, too. Standing in front of the elevator, her father looked back and forth at the two and almost exploded, "Oh my God!"

The bell on the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Faith was standing there in a relaxed position with her hands on her hips. The older man flinched involuntarily and stumbled back raising his arms protectively. Faith cocked her head to one side and smirked, "We really gotta stop meetin' like this, sweetie." She stage whispered like she was speaking confidentially, "People'll talk, ya know." She leaned against the doorway of the elevator and crossed her arms, "After all, I've got my reputation to worry about." She puckered up her lips and blew a kiss.

The older watcher slowly straightened up as he realized she wasn't going to hit him. His face was tight with anger and he clenched and unclenched his hands like he wanted to hit her.

She looked amused and drawled, "Stairs might be healthier, old man."

He glared at her, but wilted under her unswerving gaze. Aware of how ridiculous he appeared, he, avoiding everyone's gaze, marched over to the stairway exit and slammed through the door.

Faith, still leaning negligently against the elevator, her face seemingly innocent, asked, "Was it something I said?"

Harmony was looking forward to the three days off with pay the slayer had promised Harmony that Angel would give her in exchange for the heads-up on Roger's progress to the elevator. There really were benefits to working for the good guys. Although she'd personally hoped Faith would whack the old buzzard again; Harmony would have done it for free, you know, team spirit and all. Oh well, at least Team Angel probably wouldn't Welch on the deal. Knowing the people you work with was one of the ways you actualize your potential. She _had_ learned something from her experiences.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Note: By the way, Wesley's father's revelation was hinted at in chapter 36, at the point in italics where Mary is remembering an incident from her childhood when Wesley got sick. It is very subtle, I admit. I know how hard it is to remember these little vignettes, especially after so long; so I thought I'd mention it._

Thanks to deadlymistress24 for reviewing! Yep, good tension with happy endings is the best. I thought it made perfect sense for his body to survive the sun since he was still alive. I like plots with good continuity and logic so that's what I tried to do. Thanks for taking the time to let me know you were still enjoying the story. Happy holidays to you too!


	50. Epilogue: When You Wish Upon a Star

**WARPED REFLECTION**

**(Part Fifty)**

**By Ruth Quist**

**Rating:** T (for language and violence, same as show)

**Disclaimers:** This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for **_Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,** or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

Fred had looked all over for Wesley and finally found him on the roof, of all places. You'd have thought they'd had enough of rooftops for awhile.

She plopped down beside him and he smiled at her. She nudged him with her shoulder playfully, "Wha' cha' doin' up here, Wesley?"

"I was just thinking things through, and it just always seems easier up here." He shoved a loose pebble with the toe of his shoe randomly around the roof's surface.

"Okay," she said supportively, "wanna share?"

He seemed to think for a while, and she waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. Finally, he began to speak, "I was just trying to figure out what exactly was happening to the demon and me; you know, why we were so crazy. I think I've figured it out. My inner bodily functions, heartbeat, lungs, and circulation system, were creating an endless litany of noise that was slowly driving me and the demon insane. At first, I think the demon wanted to corrupt me, to gain control, but it never completely succeeded, even though it tried. By the end, we both just wanted it to end. The demon was just determined to do as much damage as possible before we died. That's why it attacked Angel. It hoped to destroy a champion for good before immolating itself and me." He smirked, "Of course, neither of us realized that only the demon would go puff if it was in a living body."

"So, why are you hangin' out on the roof again?" Fred asked, her face questioning.

Wesley grimaced, "The demon tried to use my feelings about my father and Winston to gain control. Those were my weakest points for the demon to use against me. Now that my father has told me the truth, I can understand even better why those relationships were such a vulnerable place in my heart."

He fell silent and Fred let the silence grow, allowing him to think and hugging his arm while he struggled with the myriad of feelings swirling within him. He had explained to Fred earlier about his father's revelation concerning the switch of babies. She knew he had to still be working through his feelings over that knowledge. Her feelings were simpler; Roger was a toad! She should have sent him to have a conversation with Professor Siedel!

Suddenly, Wesley burst out, "I can't help but feel that Winston was doomed from the minute he was born. I used to think it was 90 seconds that doomed him, but now it seems that the random chance of illness doomed him."

Fred asked incredulously, "Do you really believe that? I don't!" At Wesley's look of uncertainty, she make her position clear, "Just as you and Winston had different abilities, you had different ways of dealing with life. Nobody made him treat you badly. After all, you were all treated badly by your father. Did you feel the need to hurt others just because they hurt you?"

Wesley shook his head 'no' slowly.

Fred persisted, "Last year we hurt you terribly. You were upset, but you still helped us. Would Winston have done that?"

Wesley admitted, "No, I suppose not."

Fred was adamant, "You are a good man, Wesley. You're a good man because you decided to be one _despite_ your father, despite Winston, despite Billy, despite everything. You always try to do the right thing. You're so gentle, you care so deeply—but you have a ruthlessness that scares me sometimes."

Wesley looked surprised, "Fred, I…"

"Inside you is a willingness to sacrifice yourself for what you think is right. You seem to protect everyone but yourself!"

Wesley, "Ruthless! You make me sound like my father."

Fred laughed shortly, "You're nothing like your father. He's perfectly willing to sacrifice everyone but himself. He doesn't know how to love, let alone sacrifice for those he barely knows. You've always understood and the world is better for it."

"You make love sound like a strength," Wesley commented, a little confused.

"It is! And without it, your father is weak," Fred said firmly.

Wesley looked at her in disbelief, "I think my father would disagree about our relative strengths."

Fred was a little angry at his unwillingness to believe in himself and willingness, even now, to put any credence in anything his father thought, "Don't you realize! You are stronger than your father in every way. Maybe that's why he resents you."

Wesley looked shocked at her statement and then grew thoughtful. Slowly he smiled until he was beaming at her. She laughed and shook him playfully as he laughed too and then he became completely serious as he drew her close for a kiss.

He leaned back a little and said teasingly, "So, will you accede to my wishes like a good little wife should?"

She bit back indignantly, "Accede! I'm not going to be some doormat for…Wait! Wife? Did you say…wife?" She looked searchingly into his now serious expression.

Wesley said simply, "You don't have to accede to all my wishes. How about just this one?"

Fred was struck speechless and gaped at him in astonishment. As the silence drew on, he gently touched her brow drawing her soft hair back, "It's all right; you can say no if you want. It's…it's not time yet."

She could see the shutters sliding down in his eyes, and without either of them moving she was aware that the distance between them was growing.

However, she'd always known the answer; she just didn't think he'd ask. She put her arms around his neck and said as though contemplating the idea, "Well,…I suppose I _could_ accede just this once. As long as you don't expect it every time."

He smiled broadly, and in his brilliant blue eyes she saw, for the first time, into the completely open depths of the deep waters of his soul. His gentleness, his vulnerability, and his all-abiding love were all open for her to see as he let go of all the walls that his natural reserve had always created between him and the world…and it was beautiful.

…..

They'd come down to Angel's office to tell everyone the news when Angel opened a large manila envelope and, with a flash and bang, Spike appeared with a scream. Angel looked dismayed, shouted out "Spike!" and almost immediately, the two got into an argument.

Wesley remarked mildly to Fred, "Won't this make an interesting first report to Giles?"

She just smiled.

The End

Thanks to all the people who reviewed! I didn't expect to get so many reviews at the end. Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Someone in the beginning of the fic wanted me to kill Roger off, but I thought it would be more satisfying for Mr. Control Freak to be completely thwarted. Somebody like that would rather be dead than lose control and be humiliated publicly. And, yes, Faith, always a hoot. I would have loved Angel's dream to be true. Much better storyline, definitely. It was not to be, though. It would be a good fanfic to carry out the storyline from there, but the writer would have to add tension and plot from that point because it does leave everyone happy with no loose ends, except Angel losing his soul. I guess that could be very interesting to use as a plot. You're right, it would be a cool fic. Although the writer would have to be very creative in order to keep Cordy alive. Thanks deadlymistress24! What nice words! Sorry about so little Wes/Fred, but that is in this chapter. Hope it's satisfying. It was for me. I'm glad Faith was as fun to read as she was to write. Thanks to gopie! Twice! I think you're talking about "The Exorcist." Thank you! Nice to be compared to a classic horror movie! If you were surprised by the twists and the directions the fic took, I've done my job right. Thank you very much! As far as Roger, nope, can't feel sorry for someone who reaches adulthood and victimizes others. Many times, such people are victims themselves as children (I have to wonder what his father was like), but one of the points of this fic is that peoples' lives are shaped by the choices they make. They can choose to be creeps, like Roger and Winston, or they can rise above their upbringing, like Wes, Faith, and Mary. Some people are very damaged by their past and have to spend enormous effort (and often get help from psychologists) overcoming it (which is totally unfair!), but if we don't believe that people have free will, then people are just some kind of genetic-encoded robots. I think I prefer to believe in free will. Sorry, I will now officially get off my soapbox. Thank you so much for reviewing.

Thank you all for reviewing! If anyone bothers to review the final chapter, I'll email a reply if I have the address available. In any case, thanks all!

By the way, in _my_ universe, things would go much better. Cordelia would wake up and stay, Fred might be turned into Illyria, but she'd turn out to be sharing space rather than consumed, and the team would get outta Dodge and go back to fighting the good fight from the Hyperion (maybe with Spike and Faith at their side now, annoying Angel all the way).

I would end it happy; I know that.

And finally, to quote the poem _Twas the Night before Christmas_, "Happy Christmas (or Happy Holidays) to all and to all a good night!"


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